A pause has descended over my blogging for which I am sincerely apologetic to my dear readers. No, I did not plan to take a breather, nor a pre-planned hiatus. The biggest peril my writing suffers as of now, is my impending move which may be interpreted as a period of zero writing. I genuinely feel inadequate and imperfect when the pleasure of conveying my thoughts on paper, be it physical or digital, is robbed from me.
However, my reading has well exceeded my writing and I want to take this opportunity to express that I will be in no position to review each and every book I may read. It is only a matter of obvious fact that I will be reviewing books that will have stirred within me a certain fascination for the story and a deep appreciation for the style. This again, does not mean that every book that may compel me or move me will be a book of great literary value. There are books written with great simplicity in both form and style that do the trick for me sometimes. Thus I would like excuse myself if my choice of some books that I may review, may not kindle any intellectual spark within you. For I strongly believe that no matter how, a work of fiction is a highly esteemed body of writing for the author, who otherwise must have toiled day and night behind closed doors, battled innumerable sleepless nights and survived countless mugs of coffee or tea in the process of creating.
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
- Earnest Hemingway