There are so many books sitting on bookshelves (solid and electronic) I have no idea what many of them are. I’m a sucker for a good story and buy books as soon as I see one that interest me. So, this year, my New Year’s Resolution: Read all the books I have before I purchase a new one.
2 January 2021: New Year’s Resolution broken.
Books make me happy, so when I see my stash, I’m smile. Unfortunately, I’ve now had one painful experience with my stash of books. In December, I noticed a book from one of my favorite historical authors. Her writing is entertaining, light, and touched with just enough history to help me explore people and places from distant time and place. The book I opened did not entertain me. It was so light as to be nonexistent. It sparked neither imagination nor interest. Only the grammar remained on par with her usual excellence. I even poked holes in the historical facts and didn’t even need the internet to do it.
My faith in this author (no, it’s not you. It’s no one I’ve ever had contact with) prevented me from tossing the book into the bin. I pressed on. It did not improve. My faith in my stash of books broke. The thought of opening another book filled me with dread.
And then I tapped on a title in my stash I didn’t recognize, a novella by Virgina Wolff, Flush, a Biography. My faith in the written word is restored. If you’re a fan of Virginia Wolff, Elizabeth Barrett Browning (Flush’s companion), or have a love of dogs, this is a novella to entertain and educate, and commune with characters in a time and place none of us will ever know. I enjoyed. I explored.
Just because there are a few “dogs” in my stash of books, doesn’t mean I have to stop reading. And that makes me enjoy all my books, again.
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