12 Books a Year
(belated post for April 11, 2019)
One recurring notion I keep hearing is “reading a book is like meditation.” And I like this notion, so I’m going to keep this cultural hum thrumming by repeating it here on my blog. We all know that things, repeated often enough, become true. Well, not true true, but they become accepted knowledge.
I don’t like meditation, and at this point in my life, I can’t do it. Maybe I will settle down in future, there has definitely been a life-long tendency towards settling down and becoming more steady that I have witnessed in myself, but I am not yet at the door of meditation. (Although, of course I have heard that it has helped many people with many things—see Accepted Knowledge, above).
Reading, however, I can do. Well, I used to do it like breathing, never the right things, hardly ever at the right time (in terms of schooling) but very often at the exact right time for living. I have talked to my boyfriend about the obscure magic trick of books coming into your hands right when you most need them for living; he has confirmed that I am not crazy, he has had that feeling often.
But he, HE is a real reader. He reads voraciously, in two languages, hard books, really hard books, everything Goethe and so much more, making it look easy on park benches and in trains, Hegel and Hesse carelessly thrown into his backpack. (Of course I am just name-dropping, I am in the shallowest waters when it comes to German literature. I’m only starting to recognize names on his shelf). But enough about my envy-inspiring partner, what about me?
I used to read.
But now I ‘read’ articles, skim, keep up, leap around, download PDFs like its my job and put them in folders; in other words I feel that I don’t really accomplish anything. Of course, my PhD is not in literature (although it deals with some ancient literature) but it’s also NOT in the sciences, so it’s not like I pick up novels to relax my mind after all that math. It’s in the humanities, so it’s reading dense non-fiction all the time (or feeling like I read it all the time). We will talk more about how I need to Actually Read and Stop Kidding Myself in a future post. But for now, suffice it to say, that I am not reading fiction.
I can’t remember reading 5 fiction books in the last 2 years. I probably have, I am probably close to about 5 a year that I just can’t recall because sometimes reading just happens (oh HEY I just realized that I read a novel (!) on this little trip I went on in the last week)—thankfully it was jammed right into my hand by a friend who is really the Queen of the Readerfolk–the last time I saw her in person (when she pressedMy Brilliant Friend into my hands) she also lamented about the brevity of life, and how, even if she really tries, she will probably only read about 6,000 books in her life—just think of all the great ones she won’t get to!!
She’s really very adorable.
But, gentle reader of this blog, I am going to propose we do something a little more realistic. You see, I have heard estimates that even quite regular readers, (you know, those diligent book-a-week people) will only read about 3,000 books in their lifetimes. My (Particular) Brilliant Friend is actually more than diligent, she’s obsessed, and just come out of a PhD in English literature. Let’s think of her as the 1%–I think she’d be tickled with that—and hopefully it waylays some of her ennui at being able to read only 6,000 tomes.
Personally, I have only the modest goal of trying to keep my brain working and challenging myself a bit. I’ve made peace with the fact there is a whole whack of great stuff I am never going to get to (I am avoiding the eye of a bookshelf of German Literature at this very minute), I have decided to just watch the adaptations of Trollope novels (preferring to see historical clothing than have it described) and I was never really one for “artistry” (cough, Nabo-koff)–excuse me, I just have a spring cold. Indeed, many experiences are beyond me, but I do think reading can be a great time. I read constantly up til about age 18, but only what I wanted to. It was great.
Anyway, I’m well into adulthood now, so let’s recapture that magic with just an eensy bit more structure. I’m going to read 12 fiction(ish) books per year, just one per month, and I’m going to read them in luxurious paper. I might listen to more on audiobook, as I do to pass the time while I clean or work on databases (a lot of my life involves databases, it’s best not to think about this too hard) but I am only going to “count” the books I read on paper because of the perceived-meditative quality (see waffle above) and the benefits of single tasking, which I do believe in, but, like everyone else, hardly ever practice. Isn’t it funny that it seems so hipster now to read physical books? Like woah, the nineties are here again.
My List of 12 Books
(of course I might go over, I can read others and switch these up, it’s just a general schema, to avoid a 2017 situation where I think I read Hild–and that was it).
January – The Canterbury Tales, Chaucer
let’s start off with a hard one so it can hang over my head all year!
February – The Diary of a Nobody, George and Weedon Grossmith
I’m obsessed with the minutiae of daily life
March – My Brilliant Friend has been replaced with Middlemarch
I have been told for years that I will love Middlemarch and all it stands for, and I want to read “My life in Middlemarch” also, a memoir
April – Night and Day, Virginia Woolf
this came bound with Jacob’s Room, let’s see if I’ve strength enough for both this year. It took me 2 years to read The Voyage Out, but it was worth it
May – Wolf Hall, Hilary Mantel
Sounds like a cracking summer read
June – Margaret the First and the writings of the actual Margaret, lady something or other (I plan on buying these for myself for my birthday!)
July – Schadenfreude
An academic memoir (in English!) that I plan on receiving for my birthday!
August – Ich, Helena von Troja
A novel of H of T, in German, going to need any and all vacation time to accomplish this feat!
September – The Waste Land, T.S. Eliot
back to school 😉
October –
I want an excellent ghost story! maybe The Moonstone?
November – Cold Comfort Farm, Stella Gibbons
I have been wanting to read this for years!
December – De Rerum Natura, Lucretius
out with a bang(er)
I really like this blog! It inspires me and makes me laugh (and of course, always with an exquisite style). This post encourage me now to do my own list now 😮 Wish me luck!
By the way, what about reviewing some of those books in the future? I would appreciate it.
Ah, another question: I was wondering if I could get notified every time you do a new post??
Greetings,
S.