
Do you plow through them lickity-split with a goal to read a gazillion books this year? Do you feel compelled to read everything ever written?
By the way, this is a picture of some of the books lined up in our guest bedroom. It's highly unlikely, but who knows when someone may cross our welcome mat without a book of their own to read?
Anyway, I'm a member of several writer/reader online groups. A couple of them post their recent reads. It's not unusual to see someone report that they've read four, five, six books in one week. Just the thought of that many words piling into my head makes my eyes ache and my nerves get all jangly-tense.
When I read, it's this intensely personal, almost intimate thing. It's like I put my outer life on either "Hold" or "I Don't Care" and escape to another world. If there were music, it would be a symphany orchestra playing their Best Of just for me. I have absolutely no desire to skid through leaving only exhaust fumes in my wake. I want to languish. I want to stop and smell the word-daisies. I don't want to make a list.
Is there anyone left who agrees? Or are we all on this giant treadmill of which I have no understanding?
It's all better with friends.