I’ve wandered down some peculiar reading paths this year, melancholia-induced, no doubt.
Time to return to an old discipline: mostly not reading anything that hasn’t passed the twenty-year test. Let the contemporary buzz settle, let reputations find their proper level, let time do its quiet work of separation. Twenty years is long enough for the hype to fade and the enduring to reveal itself.
Of course there are exceptions. It’s a guide, not a prison, but as a default position, as a way of directing attention toward what’s proven rather than what’s merely prominent, it’s served me well before.
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