I’ve tried — and given up on — numerous reading plans over the years. All those “challenges” that seem to pop up around the blogosphere that sound so enticing? Now I just ignore those posts, much as I’d love to read six non-fiction books this year, twelve books by authors I never heard of, three books in genres I don’t like, five books in translation, ten Booker prize-winners…
Nope, the only plan that works for me is the one I discovered when I was about six years old:
- Go to the public library.
- Pull a random book off the shelf.
- Read the first few pages.
- If it seems good, put it in your tote bag.
- If it doesn’t seem good, replace it on the shelf.
- Repeat until your tote bag is full.
I know there are plenty of people out there who prefer to own their books, but I much prefer to borrow them from the library. It’s not just the “what if I spend money on it and then I don’t like it” problem, although that is certainly part of it. But even more, it’s that I like sharing books. I like knowing that someone read it before me, and someone else will after. Because that’s the greatest thing about books: they fill you up, but they don’t get used up in the process.
Oh, yes, and I like it when the pages are soft and a little fluffy around the edges. I like the library bindings that truly allow you not to judge the book by its cover because the cover is completely blank. And I like the other ones that have the original dust jacket preserved under a layer of deliciously scotch-tape smelling, delightfully crinkly, plastic wrap.
Yum!
7 Comments
Excellent reading plan.
I still prefer to own the dingy used paperbacks that I read in the tub or in bed late at night. I like not worrying about the state it will be in when I return it.
It was a turning point in my reading-life and in general, when I discovered the ‘youth’ shelves one summer and started connecting with books in a new way. I don’t remember all that I read that summer but The Count of Montecristo was one step in etching a new awareness into my literacy. How this relates: I liked that I was drawing books from a central, shared repository–it seemed affirming, somehow, of what I was doing. If I find a book on a shelf in a bookstore, who knows? It could be junk–I might like it by accident; my liking it might be a mistake. But if a library (say that word ‘library’ like it’s a magical refuge removed from the mundane world–and isn’t it, with it’s special aura of quietude?) offers a book, well, it’s sort of a blessed and sanctified object.
I think I’ll always have a special love for penguin classics (sorry–I know they’re not popular with all who frequent this blog) as a result of that one summer.
Guessing, here, but I was probably in the middle of high school, or there abouts.
Looking back, I guess I felt I’d stepped across some line somehow, by reading books that were not JUST about the ‘plot’–though I’m sure focused on that aspect; is there much beyond that for Count of Montecristo?–and that didn’t have illustrations. :-)
I gotta say I love the bookfair that happens twice a year here, but I also love the feeling of buying a new book. However, I have so many books that I’m running out of space. It’s a bit of an issue.
I came to a different accommodation with my own urge to recycle books. When I discovered audiobooks, I went through a feeding frenzy over the course of a few weeks at the former audiobook section at the Berkshire Athenaeum. (They have subsequently dispersed audiobooks to sit alongside regular books in the stacks.)
At the circulation desk one day as I checked out my latest finds, I remarked that they had not added much to their audiobook offerings lately and didn’t have many recent titles in the collection. The librarian conceded that audiobooks were super-expensive, and they welcomed donations – even on cassette.
As an eBay bargain-hunter, I realized I had a new calling. I had already bought a number of relatively recent titles (paying maybe $8 or $10 for an audiobook that would otherwise cost upward of $40). I brought a bag of used audiobooks next time I went to the library and donated them.
They do hold an annual book sale at the library, so they would probably take regular books in donation, but I like to think that my audiobooks will really be part of the collection.
Another story, tied to your observation about the appeal of old library books: I checked out five books on Friday that I want to screen for possible use in my classroom if I stick with 8th graders next year. The copy of _A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court_ has three typewriter-generated labels on the spine. One with the title, and one that says “Twain” taped over the third which reads “Clemens.” The cloth binding on the book is completely worn through on the edges of the cover, and the most recent copyright date appears to be 1917!
I am trying to imagine what led to the reclassification of the author, and whether there was an actual argument between librarians about the correct name sometime during the last 91 years. . . .
Veronica, yeah, if I were reading in the bathtub I wouldn’t want to do it with a library book either. But I’m more of a shower person.
Steve, I love what you said about the shared repository. That’s it. Exactly!
Crit, your comment reminded me of one of the fun things you get to do with bought books but not library books: arrange them on your shelves. :)
Sara, oh yes, I bet they had a HEATED argument! Several heated arguments, probably.
I love your reading plan, and agree wholeheartedly. I am a regular and faithful visitor to my library, and have been ever since I first walked through its doors at age three.
I think my best library story has to do with a school library. We’ve lived in the same community in southeastern Michigan for my whole life, and we raised our son here. My elementary school closed back in the early 70′s, but they apparently divided up the libary books between some of the other schools. So when my son went to another elementary school, he happened across a book in the library that still had my third grade scrawl on the lending card! I don’t remember what the book was – apparently it wasn’t too popular, since I was the last one to borrow it (in 1965!)
That is a great story! What was the book?