Libraries, Books, Philosophy and Paul

Now that the new academic term has started, I'm going to avail myself not only of my current uni library, but also the ones belonging to my old alma mater. I think I'm correct in thinking that £50 will get me a post-grad library card with borrowing rights. The main library is a circular Art Deco beauty that just breathes learning and knowledge. I used to really enjoy squirrelling around in its subterranean depths, enjoying the smell of the waxed parquet and old books. I intend to get myself over there soon and sign up. It'd be good to open up old channels of communication again with my old department too.
Books have been coming through the letter box at a very satisfying rate, save for yesterday when I was down on campus and one was returned to the post depot from whence I had to retrieve it today. I though I'd better do as there is a postal strike threatening....oh no!
I finished Alexander McCall Smith's The Sunday Philosopy Club, and felt curiously vindicated concerning my original judgement of it. Unsatisfying, and definitely not as good as its sequels. Still, it was only £1 from the Autism Charity Shop. I've been reading Michael Gorman's Reading Paul and find it a clear and insightful introduction to the Pauline corpus, although a bit too devotional for my liking. I have read so much about Paul that I have the curious feeling that I actually know him, like he is some sort of tetchy uncle that I haven't seen for a while and who I wouldn't necessarily go out of my way too visit. I think he would be far too much like hard work, picking arguments, generally being pedantic, grumpy, nosy, self-pitying, but the kind of chap that would wordlessly press a twenty-pound note into your hand as you left, noting with surprise that his eyes look moist. I've never quite got over the extraordinary feeling that I got when I was translating 1Corinthians in the autumn dusk a few years ago: I'd got to the last verse, verse 16 and was whizzing through the last section when I became convinced that he was personally addressing me, actually speaking to me through the epistle. Amazing, and not a little spooky. One book that I picked up recently and am keen to crack on with is Daniel Everett's Don't Sleep, There Are Snakes, a missionary - and linguist's tale of life amongst the Amazonian Pirahas tribe. His original intention to 'convert' (what a horrible notion!) them is quickly sidelined as he discovers them to be the happiest of people, with absolutely no need to be 'saved' (I wonder what his superiors made of that!). It was the linguistic side of the book that appealed to me most (naturally) as his discoveries concerning the Piraha's language 'run counter to prevailing linguistic orthodoxy'. John Searle rates it highly, so I'm guessing that it is anti-Chomksyian in its thinking. Don't get me started....transformational grammar v behaviourism.....hmmmm.