At any given moment, I’m in the middle of more than one book. I just tend to get fiercely interested in something else before I finish with one book, so I go off on a tangent for a while with a new book, eventually coming back to finish the first.
About a week before Christmas I was rereading Neal Stephenson’s The Diamond Age. It’s a really interesting book, in part because of its form: it is quite definitely a science fiction novel, but it is structured as a Victorian novel, complete with the distinctive chapter headings: a little graphical ornament, and a short synopsis of the events that will happen in the chapter.
Then I spent a lunch break at the bookstore, and came across a book I’d heard many good things about: To Say Nothing of the Dog, by Connie Willis. Based on universally good reviews, I’ve been wanting to read it for a few years, and I was in a hurry, so I just snatched it from the shelf and bought it on an impulse.
Lo and behold, it’s another Victorian science-fiction novel. Without planning it, I find myself in the position of simultaneously reading two Victorian science fiction novels. There can’t be too many books that fit that description; what an interesting coincidence.