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 Eddie Izzard (I forget which video it was in, that part of the story is irrelevant) described himself as “thinly read”. A polite euphemism for what he went on to describe as having read “fuck all”. I too am thinly read but without the mitigation of dyslexia. I didn’t go to a bad school (actually a damn good and expensive one) and I didn’t grow up surrounded by the 1980s / early 90s equivalents of Playstations and the Internet. I simply didn’t read many books and it isn’t a habit I showed any interest in getting out of in sixth form, at university or after that. It wasn’t so much that other things were more interesting looking than books, merely that books weren’t interesting looking period. But that changed last year. I decided to stop being a thinly read baboon and aim for the logical heights of fifty two books in one year. One per week. Seven days per book. A tall order but one that I achieved with some days to spare. Indeed I ended the year with a grand total of 55 books. The list is as follows –
1984 Maybe not littered with the so called “classics” but a good mix I feel. Most of them were enjoyed and most of them come with my recommendation. The challenge was to recreate the miracle this year. Only me being me I had to set the target at 55 so as not to be seen to be going for the easy option of doing less than last year. I was fairly on course until July when we were told the office was closing at the end of the year and a rather surreal time followed (which may be column fodder for the future but the rules of the column say I mustn’t get sidetracked). The reading plan was put on the back burner and I now sit here having less than three days per book if I want to reach the target. It ain’t going to happen but that’s no reason not to try. Thus far the list stands as follows – Players What has this variably focused reading plan taught me about books? Sadly, very little. I’m still the same pick-it-up-and-put-it-down-again person I was before. I still lack Mother’s quality of finishing a book every time you start one. I could blame the pills – say that they make me sleepy so I get about 20 pages in and want to go to sleep but that would be to take an easy way out. The wisest course would be to ignore the omens of doom and press on. Take longer lunches, switch the computer off and get back to reading in the bath (not that I have a computer in the bath, yet). So maybe that is what I’ll do. I’ll finish this silly little column and go to finish “A Murder is Announced” – the second death has just occurred (as predicted by m’self) but we are no nearer knowing the name of the rotter (or rotters) committing the dirty deeds. Then it will be on to Tietam Brown by Mick Foley. If it reads as easily as his autobiographies then I could be on 31 read by the end of the week. Then it’ll be time to fire up the spreadsheet and let it crunch the numbers. Now I’m enthused – once a spreadsheet becomes involved, I’m up for anything. |
