How the Mighty Have Fallen

Did you know that the famous phrase "Lo, how the mighty have fallen" is no phrase at all?  Apparently, we all think it is, but it is not.  I was going to use it for the title of this post, but being a complete stickler for doing things right, I googled it to be sure.  I found a load of other blog posts with the same title and a herd of people asking where it comes from and then, the answer: 2 Samuel 1:27.  But the verse reads "How the might have fallen!  The weapons of war have perished."  Ain't no 'lo' about it.

Anyhow, this afternoon. There was much couch sitting.  And leg stretching.  And student paper disregarding.  And book finishing.

But the "Mighty" who have fallen are not related to any of that.  Instead, they are the product of a serious look at the TBRs last week.  I had to do something.  They were all just sitting there.  Looking at me.  And you know, I suddenly realized: I don't actually want to read most of these.  At all.  So, The WMaIDWtPATB Challenge, it got serious fast.  It was like I was the GameMaker, and they were the Tributes, and I thought it would be wildly entertaining if a gigantic swarm of rabid bumblebunnies came out of their holes in the ground and stung half of them.  To death.  And then ate carrots.

Here's what did not get a ticket to Vegas:

Raising Self-Reliant Children in an Self-Indulgent World
For Common Things
Raising Cain
The Wonder of Boys
Judgment & Grace in Dixie
Within Our Reach
The 2 Shock of Recognition Books
Serpent in Eden
Reading Writing

Also going down last week was the YA book Aldabra by Silvana Gandolfi.  This book was Gandolfi's first book translated to English although she has written several in her native Italy.  And thought I love Europe and the sometimes unusual (to me) way Europeans look at the world, this book and I did not get along.  It wasn't offensive or even badly written, but I could not get behind the notion of this girl's grandmother transforming herself into a giant tortoise.  Or I could believe it, but I didn't care?  Something.  I finished it, but it won't make the shelves.

I took Mary Oliver's A Poetry Handbook to work, so I can pick away at it in spare moments.  And I finally finished the collection of Hemingway short stories that I started in July and that have been serving as bathroom reading ever since, so the 50 Essays collection has moved into the bathroom.

That's some serious progress, people.  12 down.  Just 90 more to go.

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