A Canticle for Leibowitz

When I was eighteen, I was crazy for what are now called post-apocalyptic novels. Read them constantly. Sought them out. Which was much trickier in the days before Google.

One of the best books I read then was A Canticle for Leibowitz.

I hardly ever reread. (I know, I know. I should. I really should. Okay, I'm going to change. Promise. I will reread.) But I decided to try Canticle again when (1) a librarian friend said it was her fav book and (2) I saw it offered up on a Bookcrossing ray.

Trepidation. Much trepidation.

Not to fear, however. Canticle dished up nicely. Satisfying. In both a limited-book-I'm-reading-now way and in that wonderful but rare book-I'm-still-thinking-about-a-couple-of-weeks-later way.

Left with that lovely feeling of the Big World and how small my little daily worries are. And hope. Very nice.