When it comes to reading, I can tend to be “the bigger, the better” type reader. I search for thick novels, dive headfirst into fantasy worlds, and am never dissuaded by the word trilogy (or better yet, series).

The adage “There are no atheists in foxholes” catches our attention, but is too broad and imprecise for universal application.

My oldest son runs ultra-marathons from time to time, whereas for me, an ultra-marathon is staying awake from 3 a.m. to 10 p.m. with just one nap. At any rate, this Christmas he gifted me with a copy of Jesse Itzler’s “Living with a SEAL: 31 Days Training with the Toughest Man on the Planet” (Center Street, 2016, 288 pages). 

I’ve always been a fan of psychology, especially when it comes in the form of self-help. Many times I have found answers I didn’t know I was looking for, or solutions that were far simpler than I expected.

Early in the 1970s, while living and working in Spain, Chen Maoping read a story in “National Geographic” about the Sahara Desert, and it captured her imagination. She became determined to live there.

“In time, maybe the land will decide.”

Scott T. Starbuck is an award-winning poet, career fisherman, climate activist and longtime resident of the Pacific Northwest. His most recent book, “Bridge at the End of the World (New and Selected Poems)” is a culmination of his major published poetic output. 

There’s no fool like an old fool.

Allow me to serve as a prototype of that adage. I’m old, three years past the Good Book’s allotted age of three score and ten, and now I have once more donned my jester’s motley and bells by making resolutions for the New Year.

When you’re a child, this time of year is full of magic and wonder. As you get older, the holidays can become more nostalgic than enchanting, with more sentiment than thrill. Finding that old spark isn’t impossible, but it’ll take more effort to revive it and perseverance to maintain it.

For all sorts of reasons, mostly having to do with research, the last two weeks brought more reading than usual my way, but with no single book finished for any possible review. One of these books, Pat Frank’s “Alas, Babylon” I read 58 years ago, while Anthony Esolen’s “Nostalgia” I needed I read just this last year.

The ever growing stack of my “to-read” books has had Amor Towles’ “A Gentleman in Moscow” for about a year now. Several friends, whose literary opinion I respect, raved about this novel and one of them even bought me my copy.