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.