Bronx Cheers For Old Age

Today is my birthday and I intend to spend a good chunk of it reading whilst awaiting the onset of old man maladies. Conventional wisdom amongst my friends has it that it is a bad idea to get me a book as a present. Chances are I've either read it, already own it or, if neither of the above, am simply not interested in having it pollute my bookshelf. Thankfully my friends aren't conventionally wise and I got a haul of excellent books that I wouldn't have ever thought to get myself. Sometimes chutzpah pays off in spades.

I had intended to make a clean birthday break - there is a lot to be said for the books one reads on one's birthday. But, alas, I am only half way through Arnold Zable's Jewels and Ashes (didn't manage to finish it, what with the ridiculous spring clean we undertook on the weekend) and so I shall be spending the day in the comforting arms of Australia's greatest old-school fabulist. I'm loving it so far so I'm not about to complain, but it won't really count as the first book I will have read at the big three five. Tolstoy looks to have that one in the bag. As of later today, or perhaps tomorrow, I am challenging myself to knock over Anna Karenina in less than ten days. Actually, I'd like to have it done by the end of January. What can I say? It seems old age has taken a toll on my ability to think rationally. Well, that's my excuse and hey, it's my birthday. Indulge me!