Mom: Sam, you can't possibly go through that many books. We are going to (fill in destination) and you will be to busy to read anything. You can take two.
Sam: But I brought a hundredth of the amount of clothing of Jaimie/Zoe, and my suitcase still weights a hundredth as much as theirs do.
Mom: I don't care, you can't bring them.
But she's wrong. There is so much travel time, random times waiting in lines, etc., in which to read. And of course, by day three, I have finished both books, plus the weird poetry book Zoe inevitably brings (and I don't understand a word of), Jaimie's trash romance novel, have been told off by my mother for trying to steal whatever she brought, and am not quite desperate enough to read Alyx's lemony snicket or Dad's book on vector calculus in hyperspace (which he reads for pleasure, God help us.)
And so now that I'm traveling by myself to India and my mother has no say in what I bring, I am stupid enough to bring only three novels, which I finished in a week and a half, and have been desperately drooling over the book stands which--when I get close--have nothing in English. But I found a Walden Books, I'm not even kidding, and they had all of these classics *in English.* I got a pile of stuff from some of my favorite classics authors for like $3 each. Kafka--which I have been dying to read since Jeanne showed us those passages, James Joyce (oh I love i love i love) and a bunch of others. I thought about giving Dostoevsky another try, but then I remembered just how much I wanted to strangle myself after reading Notes from Underground, and decided against it. Maybe another time...