Brain Mush

I made the decision to start reading better books. Not necessarily more worthwhile, just more erudite. I have a book case full of interesting and intelligent books, yet I consistently reach for the pulp. I have read and re-read all the Jonathon (and Faye) Kellerman thrillers; I have read Agatha Christie's entire published works (in chronological order); I have overindulged in fluff and frippery to the extent that my brain in turning to mush.
I have an Honours degree in History, and my shelves are packed with texts and tomes that have piqued my interest over the last 15 years. I just haven't read them. I have chunky biographies and collections of essays and impenetrable philosophical rants. I own Hobsbawn's entire 'Age of..' series, a couple of Schama's doorstoppers and hundreds of other books filled with truth and beauty and words. Gorgeous, tangible, tasty words. And I ignore them all, so that I can cushion myself with marshmallow-y prose.
I lie in bed and gaze at the bookshelves and Hobsbawn chastises me. Plekanov mutters incomprehensibly. Lenin glares at me malevolently. I feel so guilty.

So, I took the plunge. I picked up Hobsbawn's Uncommon People: Resistance, Rebellion and Jazz. It's a collection of essays and articles spanning 50 odd years, all touching the central theme of revolution and resistance - Hobsbawn is a pin-up boy for Marxist historians everywhere. It would come as no suprise that I tend to see world history through the prism of proletarian stuggle.

I jumped in, and the water was warm and welcoming...
A short introduction about Thomas Paine, author of 'The Rights of Man', and witness to two revolutions. Short, sharp and deliriously complex. Ah... Don't you love the English language, and the unravelling of a six line sentence...
A longer, more traditional exploration of the effectiveness of machine-breaking (as opposed to Luddism) as a tool of the workers in the early stages of the Industrial Revolution.

It was hard work, and my brain got a little fatigued, but I felt as good as if I'd run a couple of kms. It was a mental workout, and I needed it. I'm going to do this slowly, a chapter every night, until I've re-trained myself how to read, how to think, how to use the skills I've been given.
Next chapter: An investigation into the assumption of political extremism in shoemakers.