The Growing Stack of Books

This is the stack of books that currently threatens to kill me from my bedside table.  I love them all.  I can’t commit to reading just one.  I just pile them up and read a little of each, rarely seeing any through to completion.  Is it still love if I pick one up, read a few pages then get distracted and seduced by another?  I mean, I read very attentively while I’m reading–post it flags and highlighters, the whole nine.  Am I thinking of one protagonist while reading about another?  No, I really am not.  And on the rare occasion that I do, I switch back to the book in which the protagonist that occupies my mind is in.  So that’s a kind of book-monogamy isn’t it? In the moment monogamy–very 21st century, evolved (dare I call it Zen?) monogamy. Maybe I’m working out other issues here.

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