At least books don't get moldy.
The New Kings of Nonfiction. It's over 400 pages, and I am currently bogged down somewhere in the middle of it. Not that it isn't a good book, mind you; but it's a collection of nonfiction pieces compiled by Ira Glass (of This American Life fame), so my interest level fluctuates according to which piece I am reading.
What disturbs me is this: I recognized one of the pieces, an essay by Malcolm Gladwell that I remembered reading (and enjoying) in The New Yorker a few years ago. Well, maybe as many as 6 years ago, even. Or 4? Maybe it was only 4. Annoyed I couldn't remember, I turned to the page in the book that gives the copyright dates of the different essays. Yes, there it was.
Published in The New Yorker in 1999.
|When reading, beware of wormholes...|
14 years...that's more than a decade, so why did it seem like I had read it recently? In 1999, Brian, Rachel, and Susie hadn't even been born yet. I first read that Gladwell essay in a completely different era, back when I was still a youngish mother of three with a face that didn't sag, when I had only a dial-up connection and dinosaurs roamed the earth.
Apparently, I blinked, and 14 years flew by. Which means, next thing I know, I am going to be eligible for Medicare. This whole passage of time phenomenon freaks me out.
Anyway, I should be done with this wormhole/book in a day or two. Leave a comment if you are interested in being the next person to read it!
[Book image: Goodreads]
[Wormhole image: Radio Freethinker]
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