Well, I finished my 48 hours. Parts were great, and parts less so. I feel somewhat dazed, more so than usual.
Time spent reading: hard to know, exactly, because of all the interruptions. I'd say around 22 hours. Time spent blogging--only 15 minutes.
When I checked in Saturday, I had read 4 and a half books. In total I read 10 and 1/4, for 2603 pages (although, as Barbie once famously said, "Math is hard").
My other 6 and 1/4 books were as follows.
Nancy Calles the Tune, by Dorita Fairly Bruce (1944). In this conclusion to an English boarding school series, Nancy, now having finished school, is seeking useful War Work (WW II). She finds it as an organist and choir-master at a struggling Scottish church. There issome adventure, and some not too satisfying romance. It was a good but not great read.
Then I started Fly-by-night, by Francis Harding, a book I've been meaning to read for a while. I found it very very hard going. After 158 pages I decided to bale out--I didn't give a damn what happened toMosca, the heroine, and there was no scrap of numinous-ness to the plot.
I also began reading out loud The Island of Adventure, by Enid Blyton (1944, 192 pages) to the boys.
I was very disappointed with my Saturday progress. I would have read more had not circumstances conspired against me--for instance, while I was in the library updating a patron came in with c 200 books to donate to the book-sale, and wanted his boxes back. That meant I actually had to sort and put away the darn things, taking an hour of time that had been earmarked for reading. Strangely, the boys also wanted things like food and drink, not that I begrudge them but still. I also was getting tired of reading.
Sunday morning I was much luckier. I read:
Mister Monday, by Garth Nix (361 pages). Isn't it remarkable how much faster one reads when it is a good book? This one only took about 2 hours, compared to the 2 hours just for the first bit of Fly by Night. I will definitely be looking for the rest of this series. It reminded me somewhat of Diana Wynne Jones, a favorite author.
The next book was even better: The Player's Boy, by Antonia Forest (1970). The best Shakespeare story I have ever read. Great characterization, fun plot, good history. Very highly recommended, much good that will do American readers unless they are willing to spend a fair chunk of money getting the reprint (from Girls Gone by Press) from England, possibly via Ebay.
Then I moved on to Lady of Quality, by Georgette Heyer (1972, 255 pages). I tried very hard to get a variety of books going, so as to stay fresh. This was a good choice. Light and entertaining Regency Romance. I may well read more GH, especially as airplane books.
I next read Alison Uttley, The Country Child (1931, 237 pages). A pleasant lightly fictionalized memoir--sort of a nature diary and anthropology of pre WWII rural England combined.
Finally, I raced to the end of Sea of Adventure. Enid Blyton has her points--she is of the "kids like to read her books" ilk. I was one of those kids, although I had never read this one. But great fiction it was not. When reading it out loud, I had to edit out a racist thread, so this one is not going on my boys' bookshelf.
Just to clarify from yesterday:
Abbey book: 315 pp
Emma-Jean 199 pp
Mayne: 208 pp
I can't revise my previous post from home, nor can I comment on posts, let alone create a post on my home computer--there is nothing to press that says save, or publish. Control S doesn't work either. So I am sending this as an email to my sister...
Finally, thank you Mother Reader! It was fun, I read some great books, and now having pigged out on reading I will be able to spend more time in the coming week ensuring that the Needs of my Dear Family , dear house, and dear garden are met. I'm not tempted to read fiction at work, unless blogs count, so the amount of time I devote to dear work will be unchanged.