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.