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Book Whore

August 8, 2008

I am a book whore. I do several books at a go, picking them up and putting them down on whim.

Well, not so much a whim, more of convenience. There are books on my nightstand, books on the table beside my favorite chair, books on the kitchen table. I have books in about as many places as I have reading glasses.

And like my glasses, they migrate from room to room, many often ending up in the same place, waiting to be evenly redistributed again.

My husband thinks this odd. He reads one book at a time, cover to cover. Unless it’s immediately apparent it’s going to be a complete waste of his time. Then, of course, it’s immediate divorce.

I, on the other hand, rarely read a book straight through. I pick ’em up and put ’em down. A lot. Not usually because I’m bored: If I’m bored with a book, it goes in a box to take to the used book store. I don’t have patience for boring. I’ll pick up a book, read what I can in the time I have, stick the book marker in, and come back later. Sometimes I’ll put the marker in just because my brain can’t take in any more. I want to digest what I read, mull it over, think it through. Sometimes the marker gets used a lot because it’s slow going, new territory, brain-cell burning, old-dog-new-trick-teaching.

I read one book before I fall asleep (sometimes in mid-sentence, the book held in front of my face, light on, until my husband pulls it free, marks the page and turns out the light). I read another at the breakfast table, a third and fourth when I have time in the afternoon or evening. Still others are for study or relevant to the times. One leads to another and often they overlap. Don Miller recommends Rick McKinley. McKinley recommends Miller. (Once both had new releases right around the same time; So I started and finished them both at the same time.)

I have my hands all over some books: Dog ears and penciled margins. Those I read again. And again. Others have nary a mark. Those may go back on the shelf for sharing with others. (The dog eared books get shared with others, too, I just buy new copies and keep the old friends for myself.)

I’m a book whore, but I don’t think the books mind. I think they rather like it. I think they edge themselves to the corner of the table, begging to be picked up again. I’m not complaining — I can’t wait to pick them up.

Got a good one to recommend?

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One comment

  1. That’s funny – I read like you and my Jay reads like your Jay!



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