Back to the new normal

 Lots of ups and downs.  When last we spoke, I was feeling poopy.  Better today, for no particularly good reason.  But I find being - well, poopy (I can't even call it depressed, really) - boring, and I have a low tolerance level for boredom.  So I try to get out of that downward spiral before it wears a groove in my brain so deep that I can't get it out.  

Books first.  I think I already mentioned War, by Margaret McMillan, a Canadian historian.  Not any earth shattering revelations, but a good review of how wars have been conducted through the ages, and how war shapes society and society shapes war.  She is a good writer, and is one of those I would read whether I was interested in the topic or not.  Next up was Identity, by Francis Fukuyama, who I would call a social historian.  Here, he writes about a topic close to my heart, the rise of identity politics, which, with the best of intentions, has ended up dividing us rather than uniting us.  I highly recommend it for those who are looking for the causes of the rise of the rabid underclass.  

On a completely different topic, Shakespeare in a Divided America, by James Shapiro (author of The Year of Lear and dozens of other books about Shakespeare.  The subtitle is "What his plays tell us about our past and our future", and that about sums it up.  I am a sucker for anything Shakespeare, and this was really fascinating.  I really didn't know about most of the historical incidents involving Shakespeare in America, and will probably never look at Julius Caesar or Coriolanus the same way again.  

Another very pleasant surprise was The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller.  It was a retelling of the story of Achilles, from the more personal vantage point of Petrocolus, his lover, and I was totally rapt from beginning to end.  

Have I already mentioned The Minor Adjustment Beauty Salon, by Alexander McCall Smith?  It is one of his lovely, gentle books in the Ladies #1 Detective Agency series, and has not changed my opinion that I will read everything he writes.

Finally, I have just started reading (technically speaking, listening to), Too Much and Never Enough, by Mary L Trump, Donald's niece.  She clearly loathes him, but the writing (and reading - it is being read by the author) is quite unemotional, written like the clinical psychologist she is.  It provides a grounding as to where this dysfunctional  man comes from.  Once again, I am rapt.

So, worry not, my friends.  I have once again escaped from the clutches of depression through the time-honoured vehicle of books.