The lock seemed to be
broken, but the lid had rusted shut. The
box rattled when he shook it. It was not
an obvious place to look for books or papers, but—obviously too—it was designed
to be opened and closed, and might contain a scrap or two of information for
the memorabilia. Nevertheless,
remembering the fate of Brother Boedullus and others, he sprinkled it with holy
water before attempting to pry it open, and he handled the ancient relic as
reverently as was possible while battering at its rusty hinges with a stone.
Chapter 2 – A Canticle For
Leibowitz
This is not so much an actual epic quote as it
was an apt description of what I’ve been doing the last 15 weeks. I set out to finish this challenge in order
to get to know the genre better and to force myself to do something difficult. So I’ve tried to give my reviews the
attention they deserve, but instead I fear I’ve been “battering their rusty
hinges with a stone”. There are so many
things worth pages and pages of discussion in these books that I’m forced to
skip entirely or force a brief mention to substitute for thoughtful meditation
on a theme. Every week I aim for
capturing the deeper meaning and importance of these works and every week I
succeed only at stripping them down to the level of perfumed rubbish at best. Bear with me…I’m trying.
Don't you also have a job, living space to deal with, a wife to cherish, a baby girl to raise, a bunch of running to do, etc., etc.? You can only die on so many hills (just learned that phrase this week!). You get an A for effort :)
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