I have been buying books a fair bit these last few days. I bought five novels yesterday and another three today. This doesn't include the usual literary reviews and one of my favourite magazines which is Vanity Fair. By the way, the cover for the newest edition of the New Yorker is simply splendid.

My choice is always an eclectic mix as I just can't limit myself to one class of books. I love fiction and of late, non-fiction, poetry and plays and I tend to go where an exuberant mood takes me. I can't shake off the feeling that I am poorly read especially when I happen upon a delightful bookshelf and catch enough dreamy titles and strange adventures to fill an ocean. It would take a good five lifetimes, I think to complete reading all of my favourite stories alone even if I stayed anchored to just one place. There'd still be room for more. Perhaps, it's a case of 'wonders never ceasing'. :-)

I have just finished Sebastian Barry's The Secret Scripture. It was a rather difficult story to absorb and the narration is conducted the way the old Irish might have spoken English. Or rather it reminds me a lot of the late Sean O' Faolain's musical flow to his storytelling prose. The characters although not lovers, stayed woeful and romantically tragic. The gripping story is incredibly sad and destined to get sadder still. The story that still pulls at my heartstrings, ends on a deeply poignant note but with its sure lining of hope.

I bought more Elizabeth Bowen novels as I adore her exquisite use of language as a pure art form and hers is one of the exciting forms of the Modern novel that I'd like to be acquainted with.

Today, at the market square in Temple Bar, I picked up 4 obscure titles - long out of print. These included Rabrindranath Tagore's The Housewarming and Other Selected Writings, the 1930's famed naturalist and painter Joanna Field's diary called A Life of One's Own and an Iris Murdoch title I missed although I stay intrigued by her fiction with their overpowering philosophical attributes and have in this guise, read almost everything. This chunky fare was called The Message to the Planet. The market square is a lovely place to shop for outrageous titles. Quite a few booksellers have set up shop, come the summer. I go to my favourite one where because of customer loyalty if anything, I can be sure of a generous discount. The square is surrounded by pubs, sidewalk cafes and buskers.

I'm at a stage in my life where I just want to read as much as I can and have made the space for this. I hope to pick up some Arabic and Japanese literature next. The last I read was Junichiro Tanizaki's Seven Japanese Tales.