When I'm reading something really good, chances are:

a.) I would immediately finish it, then, still on a high, I would be gushing about it till kingdom come via my blog(s) or proceed to text message people who might also like it/convince friends to read it

or

b.) I would prolong the reading experience, savoring certain passages, anticipating reading a few pages each night, going to sleep with the content, happy feeling of having some more pages to devour the next day, waking up and having my day brightened just by seeing the cover of said book, and then gushing about it till kingdom come via my blog(s) or proceed to text message people who might also like it/convince friends to read it

or

c.) Feel that no words coming from me would be adequate enough to describe how beautiful it is which leads me to the sometimes-nice option of just keeping quiet about it, safe in the private knowledge of having this secret love which brings forth lots of scary content smiling and dazed euphoria.

My latest book-related obsession would have to be the beauty of audiobooks. I think I might have tried this once or twice and then I gave up, bored and restless.

But then perchance (Thanks again! :) You've got excellent taste!) gave me a copy of The Sharper Your Knife, The Less You Cry by Kathleen Flinn, and it is suddenly the dawn of a new era for me. A memoir similar to Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love (which I couldn't finish due to its overwrought woe-is-me tones) in which Flinn decides to pursue her dream of studying at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris and discovers herself in the process, this was a joy to listen to while working. (The current state of my reading experience with this book is B, btw.)

Since I'm a hopeless multitasker, I listen to it while working, discovering that contrary to what I expected, this particular audiobook actually helped improve my focus instead of distracting me.

Also, there's this certain inexplicable shimmer of glee that I get whenever I partly understand what the chefs are saying. Interspersed with some French from her chef instructors and neighbors, it's like the listening tests we have at Alliance, where I know I am an epic failure, so this is multitasking at its finest: Not only do I get to finish a book at a faster rate, but I also become more alert, with my French listening and comprehension skills honed.

The story itself is interesting. I found myself giggling like a lunatic at some parts and shuddering at some extremely detailed sections where rabbits are beheaded and their legs cut up for a stew, making me reconsider about my future plans of studying in a cooking school.

Many years ago, my mother bought us some audio cassette tapes of stories for children narrated by someone named Laura I-forgot-her-last-name. It had an earthy, tribal feel to it, and sort of reminded me of Rudyard Kipling's Just So Stories or Gaiman's Anansi Boys, which I both loved. My whole family and I would listen to those tapes, in my parents' bedroom, with the lights turned off and we'd hear stories about faraway lands with talking animals and I'd feel very Eliza Thornberry-like, with the world opening up, showing its marvels to me.

This might explain my revived fascination with audiobooks. That nostalgic, feel-good instance where someone cares enough (or appears to) to read stories to me and that Capricornian drive to actually accomplish something even by sitting still.

The narrator, Cassandra Campbell, does very good impersonations; from grumpy chefs to lovestruck maidens to this nun from Texas with a Southern drawl--with her impeccable French (or what I think must be, since I can't really tell at this stage). One thing I've noticed though, is that there everyone is VERY.PRETTY. in this book. Everyone is lavishly described as being so beautiful and exotic and entrancing that I kept on anticipating a surprise sapphic affair. Not that Flinn's fiancee isn't a sweetheart, because he is, and if he's every bit of the charming, loving man that Flinn makes him to be, then he's certainly a keeper. (P.S. I'm a bit squeamish about that breaking -the-mahogany-bed-in-throes-of-passion though, although it is mortifyingly funny and mostly mortifying that that was the first time he met the parents, but it made me feel dirty and not in a good erotica kind of way, so..yeah, a bit ick, says the prude in me.)

I'm a sucker for food-related memoirs, especially one with recipes. I'm also a sucker for armchair travel and self-discovery/self-improvement blah blah, so this one really takes the cake.

I want to be an audiobook narrator when I grow up. I think that would be the best job ever, after being a librarian or Angelina Jolie's secret lady love.

What I think: 9 unicorns