I’ve barely touched a book in the last year. And now I’m voraciously reading.

It’s like this for me. Feast or famine. But it wasn’t always like this. I used to read for days, for weeks on end, for years. That has changed, in part, by the press of life. Also, the pandemic collapsed my attention span. I recently purchased a new Kindle, and that certainly inspired me to return to my pile of unheard books.

I’m currently reading Tragic Sense of Life by Miguel de Unamuno.

I was introduced to Tragic Sense of Life while watching an episode of Star Trek: Picard. One of the characters, Captain Cristóbal Rios, was pursuing the book. When asked what the book was about, Rios explained, “The existential pain of living with the consciousness of death and how it defines us as Human beings.” I purchased the book that instant. That was a year ago, and I’m just now reading it.

I’m only 40% of the way through Tragic Sense of Life (I know this because I’m reading the book on a Kindle), and Unamuno has arrived at the thesis of his philosophy, which is nothing short of immortality. Just what that means, I’ll learn in the remaining 60% of the book.