Better late than never, no? Here is Eva’s original post.
Which book do you irrationally cringe away from reading, despite seeing only positive reviews?
There are many. Mostly romances, especially that strange brand of “inspiring” Christian romance novels. In my experience, those are almost inevitably bad. I often shy away from reading books just because they’re popular; I’ve never read anything by Dan Brown, John Grisham, Michael Crichton, or Danielle Steel. (This doesn’t apply in every case. I have read all of the Harry Potter books).
If you could bring three characters to life for a social event (afternoon tea, a night of clubbing, perhaps a world cruise), who would they be and what would the event be?
Oh, my stars. I think that I would have afternoon tea with Mrs. ‘Arris of Mrs. ‘Arris Goes to Paris, by Paul Gallico. We would drink strong tea, water the geraniums, put a few bob down on the horse races, and have a good gossip. For a night of clubbing, I would choose the inimitable Mr. Darcy from Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. We would stay for five minutes, grouse a bit about the crowd, and then go find something better to do. Lastly, I’d choose to have Jasper Fforde‘s version of Miss Havisham for gunfights, drag races, and/or book sales.
(Borrowing shamelessly from the Thursday Next series by Jasper Fforde): you are told you can’t die until you read the most boring novel on the planet. While this immortality is great for awhile, eventually you realise it’s past time to die. Which book would you expect to get you a nice grave?
Spenser’s The Faerie Queene. Oh. My. Word. I had to read a fair chunk of it in second year; never is far too soon to read the entirety.
Come on, we’ve all been there. Which book have you pretended, or at least hinted, that you’ve read, when in fact you’ve been nowhere near it?
I’ve never read Paradise Lost, although I was supposed to have done so, and even wrote an essay about it on a mid-term exam (successfully). Sometimes, depending on the prof, it’s enough to just listen hard in lecture and you don’t have to read the books. Not that I would advocate such lazy behaviour. Ahem.
As an addition to the last question, has there been a book that you really thought you had read, only to realise when you read a review about it/go to ‘reread’ it that you haven’t? Which book?
I always forget that I haven’t read Mansfield Park — because why wouldn’t I have read Mansfield Park? Whenever someone in my acquaintance reads it, I get all “Oh yes, that one’s funny. They put on a play, which was of course very scandalous at the time.” But I haven’t read it.
You’re interviewing for the post of Official Book Adviser to some VIP (who’s not a big reader). What’s the first book you’d recommend and why? (if you feel like you’d have to know the person, go ahead of personalise the VIP)
I’d start with children’s classics (The Phantom Tollbooth, Anne of Green Gables and series, Little House on the Prairie and series, The Neverending Story, etc). After that, a brief detour through YA before moving on to hallmarks of Western Literature. From the classics, I’d move my VIP to non-Western works, followed by modern stuff. (And by “classics” I don’t just mean the DWEM literary sort of stuff, but also classic science fiction, classic fantasy, classic mystery….)
A good fairy comes and grants you one wish: you will have perfect reading comprehension in the foreign language of your choice. Which language do you go with?
That’s hard to choose. I would probably go with either Russian, French, or Spanish. Of those three, probably Russian, because it would be nice to have perfect reading comprehension without the slough of learning a new alphabet.
A mischievous fairy comes and says that you must choose one book that you will reread once a year for the rest of your life (you can read other books as well). Which book would you pick?
Most definitely, Pride and Prejudice or The Lord of the Rings. LotR I read yearly already. P&P gets read a fair piece more than that.
I know that the book blogging community, and its various challenges, have pushed my reading borders. What’s one bookish thing you ‘discovered’ from book blogging (maybe a new genre, or author, or new appreciation for cover art-anything)?
Well — this is hard to answer because I am so very, very new to book blogging. Four-posts new. No readers new. But I think that I hope to gain many things, mostly new avenues for blathering on about books, new internet-friends, and many new books to read.
That good fairy is back for one final visit. Now, she’s granting you your dream library! Describe it. Is everything leatherbound? Is it full of first edition hardcovers? Pristine trade paperbacks? Perhaps a few favourite authors have inscribed their works? Go ahead-let your imagination run free.
My dream library is quite spacious, taking up perhaps an entire wing of the (dream) house. It’s all done up in dark walnut panels, with at least one fireplace, overstuffed chairs, and a cat. It’s not dingy or over-dim, though, as there are enormous windows which may be opened to let in the breeze when the weather is fine. Since this is a dream library, the weather is nearly always fine — Spring-in-England fine — but occasionally there is a right good thunderstorm. The shelves are very tall, and the books are arranged therein (thereon?) with a completely esoteric filing system that will make sense to only me. Lots of them will be hardbacks, but my very favourites will also be in softcover as they’re easier to travel with. No books will be bound with cloth, because that gives me the heeblie-jeeblies. I’ll have read almost everything in the library. There will always be a to-be-read pile stacked beside the comfiest armchair. There would be one of those old-fashioned globes, probably near a window so that it can be dramatically illuminated from time to time. Such wall-space as is not filled with books will be taken up by old portraits of benevolent-looking ancestors of the generic sort. At least a half-dozen books throughout the library would be hollowed out so that I could store secret things in them. And one of the shelves would swing out from the wall when the right brick in the fireplace was pushed, revealing a washroom, kitchenette, fold-down bed, and computer station — so that I’d never have to leave.