Not literally, but the road to literary happiness. I spent December slogging. I worked on "good for me" stuff that was dragging me down, books that I thought I owed my time to. I abandoned about two or three books last month. I was down.
But now! Oh, the joy you'll find when you start reading things that are fun and pleasing. A Good Dog, by Jon Katz, was a light and pleasing read. The Tao of Pooh, though it did not clear up my confusion about how, in an all-Taoist world, anybody cooks a meal or cures a disease, was composed at least 20% of excerpts from The House at Pooh Corner, and, though perhaps didn't live up to the literary expectations of my English professors, was pretty enjoyable.
As an aside, it also really touched off a lot of thoughts for me about fitting square pegs into round holes, and how it sets you up for defeat. This has kind of hit home for me, and it's funny that, though I don't get Taoism, I'm grateful to it for having a relatively legitimate line of thought that makes me feel like less of an idiot than I've been feeling lately. But end of aside.
Anyway, I love this feeling of skimming along on top of the literature. Carter Beats the Devil, which I'm reading now, is a little denser, but it's still a well-paced novel about the life of a magician, so it's not dragging. I've also got something called Pink Think, which is sort of a sociological study of late 20th century femininity, as symbolized by the color pink and explicated though women's magazines, health guides, and product advertisements. So that, while pretty disturbing (according to one 1967 Cosmo quiz, I think I'm actually a boy), it's still pretty entertaining.
And, bless it, FAST-moving. December was a boggy month in so many ways. It's nice to be parasailing for a bit.