Words, Words, Words I don't normally make New Year's Eve Resolutions, mostly because I don't deal with letting people down all that well, especially if the person I'm letting down is myself. But I'm making an exception this year. Inspired in part by Nick Hornby's "The Polysyllabic Spree," I have resolved to record all my book purchases and readings over the next twelve months in this space, to try to give y'all an accurate picture of what it's like to be a book-nerd (I assume some of you already know this).
To provide further impetus to this project, I've set myself a goal: 52 books read in 52 weeks. It's a nice round number, after all. Hopefully, this will get me reading, and, more importantly, writing about literature much more often. Since college, I've fallen out of the habit of actually thinking about what I'm reading, preferring instead to just read as much as possible.
To demonstrate the problem at hand for me, I've included with this post a picture of my bookshelves.
Every book put on its side is one that I have yet to read--there are a couple that I haven't read yet that aren't on their sides. I've either given up on them, or just keep them around for a) reference or b) to convey just how fucking erudite I truly am.
However, fun story. The dark wooden shelf on the left is the most concrete and official example of how uncool I am. I bought the bookshelf for a mere $25 on craigslist--it's a solid shelf, almost 8 feet tall, and very sturdy. However, it went for so cheap because it's previous owner had been made over by the Queer Eye for the Straight Guy crew, and they had rejected the shelf outright.
So there you go. I am officially an uncool slob.
However, the point I was trying to make is that I don't have space on my shelves for 52 new books. Even if only half of what I read is new, I already have two stacks of books on the floor that I don't even have to bend over to touch the top of. So, those of you in New York City, or within the reach of Media Mail, keep an eye on this site in the coming weeks: I shall be culling and getting rid of duplicates, old editions, and books I'm no longer interested in. Even if you don't want a book, it should be (slightly) fun to carbon date the progress of my brief literary obsessions. You can see how I went from Robert Heinlein to Douglas Coupland to Neal Pollack in ten easy steps!