Book Polygamy

I'm reading three books right now.  Most people (if they read at all, and most don't) read One. Book. at. a. Time.  You start at Page One and slog through to Page None.  Or you give up midway if it's boring, and open a different book and start at Page One and . . . .

That's book monogamy.  I'm more into book polygamy.  You get a little bored with your current partner and feel like trying some strange stuff.  Doesn't mean you're divorcing #1, you just feel like a little variety.  Hey, babe, I'll be back!

I was bouncing back and forth between Simon Winchester's "Krakatoa" and John Shelby Spong's "Eternal Life: A New Vision."  Then yesterday I was hanging out in the library, which unfortunately is like an alcoholic hanging out in a liquor store.  And what should happen but Peter Falk was lurking on the shelves with "Just One More Thing: Stories from My Life."  Peter says "Pssst!  You there!  Lookit this!  Large print!"  And next thing you know, I'm passing my library card to the lady and waltzing out of there arm in arm with Peter Falk.

Now I have all three sitting in my house, clamoring for my attention.  I go to Simon first.  He tells a fascinating yarn about the disastrous eruption of Krakatoa in 1883.  But now he's into an involved explanation of plate tectonics.  How the continents are actually floating on molten stuff under the earth and sometimes crash into each other.  About geologic subduction zones.  My mind starts to wander, and I hear Jack Spong whispering something about earth mothers and tribal male deities.  I turn my head and pretty soon I've tuned Simon out and Jack is telling me about
the connection between the pagan Earth Mother and the Virgin Mary.  Say what? 

Yeah, he chortles--and you want the real story behind the Immaculate Conception?  Did you know the Church didn't come up with that one until 1854?  No, I didn't!  How come?  Because, he explains, it wasn't until then that people figured out that women, far from being passive receptacles to the all-powerful male "seed," actually contributed an egg and half the genes to form a new life.  The Church had to come up with some reason why Jesus--the sinless one--didn't inherit Adam's sin from his mother.  They did this by theorizing a miracle that made Mary free from original sin at the moment of her own conception.  Then he began tying this in with his pet theory that instead of God handing down religion to us, we have made up the whole thing ourselves--including, apparently, God. 

Just as this was beginning to get depressing, I noticed Peter Falk winking at me across the room.  With his one good eye.  Now I had originally picked up Peter for a single purpose--he would be my bedtime companion.  He is Large Print, which means I can read him in bed without my glasses.  Worked out fine, first time.  Last night I let him tell me a couple of bedtime stories and I went right to sleep.

But Peter is a persistent little devil.  He's charming, funny, easygoing--unlike Jack and Simon.  They are heavy reading.  Serious, interesting, full of new ideas.  They engage your brain.  Peter, on the other hand, engages your funnybone.  Tells you funny stories, Hollywood gossip, jokes about his slacker youth.

So here I am now, knowing I should be with Simon.  Or least Jack.  I get into a few pages of Simon, and then I sneak a peek at Peter.  Winking at me with his good eye.  Or is it his glass one?  Sit down, Peter!  Quit smirking at me!  Can't you see I'm busy?  What did you say, Simon?  You want something, Jack?  Just a minute, you two, I'll be right back.  You did what, Peter?