I've longed to read a lot - I don't know since when. I just know that I keep borrowing books from the library, and that I don't have time to read them. I wanted to read during the holidays but somehow I did not manage. I have several ideas in mind for essays that I want to write, but instead of sitting down and making a list of topics, and of writing down ideas I already have for these topics, I rather continue my story. And the ideas go on and on in my head...
Writing my story is easy these days. Just sit down and write according to the plan that is set down in my notebooks.
I run away from these other things I want to write...
Well, I always planned to write about the stuff I read. One, or rather two books I read these days are "A very short introduction to Buddhism" and "A very short introduction to Buddhist Ethics" by Damien Keown. It part of my project to learn more about East Asian culture so that I am better equipped if the "different culture" argument turns up. Both books are good and recommendable, I have learnt a lot about Buddhism that I did not learn before, and the author certainly knows a lot about his subject and explains different tradition of Buddhism in a sophisticated way. I must admit however that I had some issues with the first of these books: At some point I but the book down and told myself: Okay, this is oviously not a book written by a scholar of comparative religion who himself is rather neutral when it comes to buddhism, or with a benevolent interest in buddhism without being a believer himself (you cannot devote your life to studying something you don't like). It is a book written by a buddhist, and he is advertising his religion. He is critical, but he is still advertising it.
Once I had come to this conclucion, I could go and reread the book and take everything the author said with a grain of salt.
( Now, what I took with a really big grain of salt was his interpretation of European tragedy. )