In which I begin a book blog

Perhaps it is a self-serving endeavor. Perhaps it is a stab at validation. Perhaps it is just as if I, a bear of very little brain but a large amount of curiosity, wanted to be validated for a passtime that truly eats a lot of time.

I know some very good book bloggers. We read many of the same books. So sometimes Bookends will be about a book that has been blogged about a million times. But, now and again, I read a book that no one else is reading. At which time, sort of eleven-o’clock-ish, I might have something new and original to lend to the book blog genre.

My library consists largely of three categories – the books that one wants their friends to see –  The Complete Works of William Shakespeare in impressive red and gold binding – and those books that are largely packed away in the back of the house – The Shipping News, various and sundry romances, and those books that I read for comfort – Jane Eyre, Little Women, The Collected Works of Emily Dickinson.

This blog will feature all three categories and I catalog my reading for a year or so. Book after book, time after time.

To steal a phrase from Descartes, I think, therefore I read. That is what I do and, while I highly doubt anyone ever sees this blog, it will be an interesting adventure.

Just so long as I don’t get stuck in Rabbit’s front door, I expect I will do all right.

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