Now reading finally

I've been a bit deranged lately, and Stuart says I'm missing fiction. He keeps trying to foist novels upon me because I'm annoying to live with, but I am bloody minded and as I resolved to read six non-fiction books in a row, surely I will. I am not really convinced the derangement has to do with the non-fic anyway-- more instead with Seasonal Mania (which I do seem to come down with every single season).

Anyway, finally, after ages and ages, I am reading Guns Germs and Steel. It has been sitting on my bedside for ages-- for so long in fact that the person who lent it to me (Curtis) moved away months ago. 56 pages in, I am enthralled and learning so very much about things I can't believe I don't know or never thought to ask. Today as I read it on my lunch break, two strangers stopped me to tell me what a great book it was. Which was strange, really, because the only other time that has ever happened to me was way back when I was reading The Selfish Gene and nobody would leave me alone with it. Strange because you wouldn't think these unliterary books would be the ones to inspire such bookish enthusiasm. What to make of that?

I am wary though, as both people who stopped to rave about Guns Germs and Steel admitted they hadn't been able to get all the way through it. And both Curtis and Stuart said pretty much the same, though they enjoyed it still a great deal. Doesn't bode well though, does it? What if nobody has ever finished this book ever? And as I'm so bloody-minded, what if I end up reading it for the rest of my life?