Unlike last year (2009), I did n't have much spare time to read fiction this year. Last year I spent most of my spare time reading favourite authours such as Dostoevsky, H.G Wells, Conan Doyle, Tagore and Satyajit Ray. But that doesn't mean this year I gave up reading altogether. I read anything that spontaneously came to me - such as magazines (esp. old collections of National Geographic) and non-fiction related to history,geography & spirituality. Ofcourse, reading continues to be my favourite hobby nowadays. I was no 'bookish' type to start with. In my first 20-odd years I hardly read anything - not even text-books. So I am making up for it.
The only fiction I read this year is Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. Infact I started reading it in last November(09) and completed by April this year. (It was one of classics I chose to read last year.)The book made a huge impact on me that I kept re-reading it through out the year. Perhaps no other book had such a profound influence on me in recent years as this early 18th century classic.Though Robinson Crusoe is one of the heroes since my school-days, I was then only acquainted with the comics-book version.
The non-stop adventures in the high seas and eventually in the tropical-island makes this book unputdownable. The day-to-day problem solving methods described by Daniel Dofoe is still relevant which makes the book well ahead of its time. (I have wrote a detailed review of this 'mother of all modern-fiction' which I plan to publish here next year.) Inspired by the Robinson Crusoe adventures, I gained a new liking for an out-door life and even went for occasional boating trips in the lake. I also started lifting weights (after a gap of about 10-years) and other manual-labour to go with the self-reliant spirit of Robinson Crusoe.
Another reason for my liking of Robinson Crusoe is the amazing parallel between his life and mine. Like Crusoe, against the wishes of an authoritarian-father (to look after his business) I set out for a life of adventure, freedom and self-reliance and eventually ended up in the 'island of despair' (as Robinson Crusoe calls his island). But in my current state-of-mind, if given a choice between a posh, yuppie life in the big-city (such as Dubai) or laidback life in a remote island with loads & loads of books (to read and write), I may choose the later.
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