#48 - read one book a month outside of schoolwork (Oct. 2010)

Confession:

I did not actually finish this book in the month of October.

I know that makes me a terrible person.  I realized on Halloween that I hadn't finished it (which is pretty sad, because it's incredibly short), and it just so happened that we had church, choir practice, a dinner invitation, and another get-together (I think that's the married people term for "hanging out") that day, leaving me no time to finish the book.  So, I finished it on November 1st, and hopefully all you monitors of my progress will forgive me and let this one slide.  October was, after all, the month of midterms and the like, and since we're currently in the month of giving thanks, you should be thankful that I am so honest about these things.  You're welcome.

To add insult to failure (?), this was a book I've already read multiple times.  It's one of my favorites.  For those who aren't familiar with it--which is nearly everyone, even people schooled in the Hawthorne canon--it's a diary.  Nathaniel Hawthorne's wife, Sophia, left town for a few weeks with their daughters Una and Rose, leaving Hawthorne with his five-year-old son, Julian.  Record-keeping for Sophia, he made daily entries about what he did with Julian, funny things his son, said, etc.  Basically it's a father writing about time with his son, and it's adorable.   Hawthorne is one of my favorite writers, and it's interesting how his style is still so apparent in this work despite it being a personal log--that being said, these journal entries are much more light-hearted than his serious works, and you'll like this even if you're not a regular Hawthorne fan.  Plus, it's short, weighing in just under 100 pages. 

As a side note, Hawthorne (obviously) never intended for these to be published.  It wasn't until Julian himself published a work about his father twenty years after Nathaniel had died that excerpts from the three-week diary were made public, and it wasn't published in its entirety until 1932.  I would feel bad about prying into his personal life...if his personal wasn't so dang enjoyable to read about!

Ok, enough with the history lesson.  Consider yourselves educated.

He has an idea that I do not think him very wise; and this afternoon he asked--"Father, do you think I don't know anything?"--"I do," said I.  "But I knew how to shut the boudoir door, when you didn't," rejoined he.  I am very glad that he has that one instance of practical sagacity...to console himself with.