So, I am wondering what to do next. I’ve read Ulysses, and that was the last mountain of a book I felt I had to climb. There is nothing I can’t read and therefore nothing left to challenge me.
Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to take on Gaiman after Joyce. THe difference is too stark.
Here’s the thing. If I read now, just for escapist pleasure, and I admit it is pure escapism, then I should try to get a new hobby. It seems that reading is not leading to anything.
I should learn to do something else. Maybe knit.