For most of my life I've read a minimum of 52 books a year, and I often watched upwards of 150 movies a year too - and that while raising a family, working, and attending classes.
That was then.
Now? I recently finished reading my first book in over a year, and even that took me months to finish. I rarely watch a movie. And there have been weeks where I haven't turned on the TV. I also do not write, ride my bike, go regularly to Mass, or do pretty much anything I once considered routine and Danny-like.
I'm sure it's a sign of some deep underlying depression, but if so I don't consciously feel it, and it may just be a big innocent lull.
Time will tell.
Anyway, that first book in over a year? On a Sea of Glass: The Life and Loss of RMS Titanic by Tad Fitch, J Kent Layton, and Bill Wormstedt.
It is a detailed, 930-odd page (in epub at least) history of the Titanic from conception through the discovery of the wreck. When I say "detailed," I mean there is an appendix debating what the exact time of Titanic's departure was on its maiden voyage, down to the minute; discussions dissecting the timeline of survivor's accounts, comparing it to those of other witnesses and adjusting the accuracy accordingly, etc. Generally, the book displays a love, even adoration, for the minutiae of the ship.
Just by presenting the facts many of the myths of Titanic are destroyed: Ismay was neither a coward nor an overbearing snit; 3rd class passengers were segregated aboard ship in part because they were subject to immigration laws, not because of the snobbery shown in Cameron's epic (tho', as the era's equivalent of a passenger jet, accommodations were divided by class); the infamous coal bunker fire was routine for the day, etc.
There were also flaws with the ship, as you'd expect on a maiden voyage. The heating in second class was problematic, making some staterooms a sauna while leaving the majority a chilly icehouse. The public rooms, even in first class, were bitter cold when the ship reached northern waters. And there were innocent mishaps too: a first class woman fell down the grand staircase and broke her arm - up to the sinking, it was apparently the talk of the ship.
It's a great book, and worth your time.
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On the heels of that, in an effort to keep my momentum going, I read There's Something Alive on the Titanic by Robert Serling (the brother of The Twilight Zone creator and host). It is, forgive me, an atrocious novel. Skip it.
