I love reading. I wish I had more time to read because I find books faster than I can read them. New books are published way faster than I can read them: more than 800 are published every day. One every 2 minutes.
Yet recently I have been thinking a lot about Old Books.
Last term I read a lot of C. S. Lewis, whose books, at more than 50 years old, might qualify. They were marvellous! The writing was clear, clever, and challenging; but the best part was that he wrote about things we don’t hear about today.
Then, a few weeks ago, I found a bookshelf in our house with my parents’ Old Books on it, and I’ve been working my way through some of them.
With so many new books appearing, is there any point reading Old Books?
I will discuss this in the next post, but feel free to share your thoughts.
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