Some say I buy too many books. I am incorrigible; a bookstore is irresistible, for no matter how hard I try, if I walk past one I am drawn inside. If I am drawn inside, inevitably I come back out again some while later, dazed as if I have just been to another world, with one or two (usually two) books tucked protectively beneath my arm. The books go to my collection; they sit on my bedside table or prominently on my desk; I carry them wherever I go, as if they were talismans more than any mere ‘object’.
If books were people I would be a social butterfly; I flit from book to book too quickly, loving each one passionately and wholeheartedly until the next beautiful one comes along. I have read the beginnings of a thousand books, the middles of a hundred, and the endings of ten. That has to stop.
I have a room full of beautiful books waiting, some of them for many years, for me to finish reading them. ‘What are you reading at the moment?’ has become a loaded question for me to answer. What am I reading? Is it alright to say ‘only six or seven this time!’? No. From now on this book butterfly is going to settle down and try reading monogamously for a little while.
One year, 50 books. 12 months, one book at a time. That is the least I can offer these magnificent creatures which share so much of my life and love.
This blog exists to keep me accountable to this promise. Each time I finish a book, I will number it and publish a review. This blog will track my progress through this 2015 reading resolution.