Confession: I started reading more books in 2017 than I finished.
Another confession: there are more books on my shelves than I will likely be able to finish in my lifetime. Although, recently I read that having a generous supply of unread books in one’s personal library is a good thing; it is a humbling reminder of what one still has to learn.
Based also on my infinite “To-Read” list on Goodreads, I still have a lot to learn. So, year after year, I set a reading goal for myself. Last January, it was to complete 52 books by the end of the year. That’s only one a week; doable, right? I finished eight. Eight! Of those, one was a Post-It sized, condensed miniature of the Four Agreements, and another, A Year in Japan, consisted mainly of illustrations (although, what this book lacks in copy it makes up for in some of the most breathtaking imagery I’ve seen).
While most people are hitting the gym each January, I hit the books. And every year, I set a lofty goal, believing so fervently I will achieve it that I sometimes cast other obligations aside. (I once turned down a date with a guy I really liked because I was rushing to meet a book club deadline. The plot contained a fair amount of romance, and no, the irony of the situation is not lost on me.)
Recently, I read that an easy way to read 100 books every year is to employ a simple shift in your thinking: every time you’re tempted to check your social media accounts or turn on the television, retrain your monkey brain to pick up a book and read instead. Easier said than done, as I am discovering that, after long workdays, all my fried monkey brain wants is wine and Call the Midwife reruns.
As hard as it may be to trade most of my downtime-screentime for good old-fashioned paperbacks, I’ve decided to set another reading goal for 2018. Because as I stare at my bookshelves that are far too full for their intended capacity, I hear a tiny voice in my head — a voice that sounds a lot like seven-year-old me who checked out library books by the dozens and built a lamplit reading fort in my closet — a voice that says: Read more.
So over the past weekend, I tried a little experiment: I went off the digital grid, all with the intention of doing just that. I put my phone on airplane mode, didn’t respond to texts, phone calls, emails, or Facebook messages, and buried my face in book after book. And it… was… DIVINE.
Looks like this might be the year I finally read War and Peace.
daley muse 