Books

Of which I am a big big fan.

I had a student today ask me if I read. I hesitated because I did not even know where to begin answering that question. She said, "well, probably not, since you do so much reading for your doctorate, right?" I think I probably looked at her like she was crazy at that point.

Reality: I read more now than I ever have. School books, yes, of course. Three a week at least. But for-fun books too. I literally read a hundred books a year. Maybe as many as forty of them are for school.

I hate applying the term "for-fun" to books. Not because I don't think that reading is fun. But because it makes reading sound flimsy, like a tiny little hobby or a casual interest.

I looked at my student today and said to her: "I read because I don't know what else to do with my time." That might sound crazy, but I honestly meant it. I read because with all the time I have in a day, there are very few other things that I would rather do. Time with friends and family is one, but even there, my closest relationships are the ones with people who I can spend quiet reading time with. Writing is one, but for me, reading and writing are so completely intertwined that I sometimes have trouble separating them as two different activities. I read to know more stories, to learn about how stories work, which all applies to my writing. I write so that one day the stories I most want to read will exist.

I used to read books one and a time, from start to finish. I couldn't read more than one thing at a time because I was afriad I would mix up the stories in my head. But I wasn't giving myself enough credit. And really, what would be wrong with mixing up the stories? Eventually it would all sort itself out. Once they're in there, the stories all get mixed around anyway. So now, I have a stack of a dozen or so books on the table next to my bed, all of which I am in midst of reading. There are just too many books in the world that I want to divide my attention between to have kept on one at a time.

And I always finish a book once I've started it. Even if the story isn't all that interesting or the writing isn't all that skillful. All stories being told deserve to be read.

Reading for this week:
Trash by Dorothy Allison (school)
This is Not a Pipe by Michel Foucault (school)
Savings: Poems by Linda Hogan (school)
All Saints by Liam Callanan
Book of Lost Things by John Connolly
Species of Spaces and Other Pieces by Georges Perec
Not Quite What I Had Planned edited by Smith Magazine (6 word memoirs, check it out!)

And those are just the ones that I can remember author and title off the top of my head.

I've written a book. I'm not trying to be modest when I say that it is not very good. It was my first, however, and it has gotten me to the place where I can start thinking about my second. And that is what I needed from the experience of writing my first book.

So I'm an avid reader, my student decided. But I wanted to say, no, you don't understand, not yet. (To come: a post about my relationship with the physical artifact of a book...)