Books

Every time I walk through the doors, feelings of joy burst forth in my soul. The smell, the sound (or lack thereof), the sight of stack upon stack of paper-bound addiction. It's true: I'm hooked on books, to an occasionally unhealthy extent. I can thank my wife for spreading her affliction to me. After all, I never brought books to restaurants or even the dinner table as she did. Her mother says she became a much happier child as soon as she could read. So it appears the love of reading was in her genes from the get-go.

My relationship with books was much more complicated. If my memory serves me, I liked books quite a bit as a child - some highlights being The Diggingest Dog, Mr. Pine's Mixed Up Signs, Anne Likes Red (red, red, red), and Boom-De-Boom-De-Boom. All my teachers and my parents encouraged reading, of course, and I did a fair amount of it up through middle school. I vividly remember my first big chapter books - the Redwall series, by Brian Jacques - and how proud I was to make it all the way through them.

Near the end of middle school, though, I encountered a new idea that changed my attitude toward books. I discovered that some books and authors were considered to be "good" literature, while the rest were mere novels. I knew not who made this distinction, but I knew some books gave a lot more points on the Accelerated Reader list that others.

In eighth grade I made a very bad decision. We had to write five book reports or so over the course of the year, but we could reduce that number by doing reports on longer books. So naturally I chose the longest book on the list: The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoevsky. It was fantastically above my comprehension, but it meant I only had to do one other book report that year. Month after month I conquered small chunks, but for an eighth grader, it really was ridiculously boring. I did finally finish, after skipping about 100 pages in the middle when a priest basically gives a really long sermon.

So despite my leap-frogging, I was supremely pleased that I had read such a long book. Noting the impressed responses from teachers and friends, I basically stopped reading for fun from that point and started reading to impress. Throughout high school I seldom made time to read anything other than what I was assigned. But when I did read something outside of school, I chose based on how famous or gratuitously esoteric it was. The result was, of course, that I did not really enjoy reading because in most cases, I was either really not interested in the books or only moderately so. I figured, what was the point of reading something if it wasn't going to come up in discussion at some point? Alas! Such was my case.

Though I kept reading, I progressed very slowly through most books that I did not have to read for school. In college, it got worse, as I only took one English course (alas again!) and business courses are not exactly reading intensive. But, as luck would have it, just before a trip down to meet my wife-to-be's extended family, I picked up a copy of Beowulf from my future wife's bookcase. Beowulf changed my life. I had heard of it before, but it wasn't famous enough for me to give it any particular note. But its stirring drama, its defeatist heroism, its manly gore, and its "northernness" all appealed to me greatly. From then on, reading established itself as a mainstay in my life.

So first I proceeded through a vast array of Norse myth and saga, from Hrolf Kraki to the Volsungs to Heimskringla to the two Eddas and back again. That may not mean much to you, but to me it was inspiration. From there I started to branch out. First it was other mythic stories - Greek, Roman, Teutonic, Celtic. Then I realized medieval history might just be worth a look. Then I went to mystery then travel then science then back to fiction lit. It was amazing! Such was my change that after a year of vigorously reading everything that I found interesting, I actually regained interest in some of the literature I had previously only read because of its fame.

These days, as a converted bibliophile, I find my interests can be a bit too wide. And that's where the trouble begins. Now when I walk into a bookstore I am immediately tempted to buy three or four books...off the first table in the entryway. Then a few more off the next table and so on throughout the store. Before marriage I was much worse than I am now, though. Every time I walked into Borders I would leave with at least one book, more often two. You should know I walked into Borders almost once a week over the course of a year. My senior year of college, I remember once telling my then fiancée that we really needed to go to Borders one particular evening; I felt like we hadn't been there in ages. She then responded that we had just been there precisely one week, to the day, earlier.

Bargain books are my greatest downfall. I mean seriously, it's not every day you can get the complete Sherlock Holmes for six bucks or the complete Shakespeare or Poe for similar prices. Then there are the buy two get one free books. It's almost shameful to not buy a few. When I'm safe at home, away from the book-nicotine, I tell myself that Shakespeare and Holmes and all the rest will always be just six bucks, but reason seems to leave when I'm in the store. I have more than once almost bought books that my wife already owned.

Perhaps the biggest problem with my book addiction is that my tastes change very rapidly. I go through stages where I read absolutely nothing but travel books, then science books, then myth/saga, then language/linguistics, then medieval lit, and then back again. Each time I enter a new stage, my eye is absolutely fixated on those books in the bookstore. Let's take language, for instance. I own teach-yourself or normal textbooks for French, German, Latin, Hebrew, Serbo-Croatian, Romanian, and Italian. I own books written in French, German, Spanish, Portuguese, and Latin. But the only language other than English that I am proficient in is French (but to be fair, I do know a wee bit of Latin, and I can read Spanish semi-decently). But really, who hasn't wanted to learn Serbo-Croatian at some point? It was a very reasonable purchase.

Sometimes I buy a book out of compulsion and then don't touch it for years at a time, but this used to be a very good strategy. About two years ago I bought The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell, something about psychology and whatnot. I had read portions of Blink (also by Gladwell) that were interesting, so I just picked up the other book in one of my minor sprees at Borders. It wasn't very interesting to me and after a year and a half of gathering dust, I took it back to Borders. With their (previously) wonderful return policy, they accepted the book, since it was still in the system and in excellent condition. So I got a free book that day! It was great. Too bad now you have to have a receipt and return the book within a month or something ridiculous. I apologize to all of you normal book-buyers; I know they changed that policy because of me.

CS Lewis once told some fellow in a letter that his book bill should be his most extravagant bill every month. Spare no expense on books. I heartily agree, but being married, there's the whole budget thing. So my wife and I, having only recently married our libraries, have a rule that we must read three books from our own library before buying a new book. It's really helping me. I have currently read one full book from our library since we instituted the rule.

Last week I bought a biology textbook off Amazon. It was just such a good deal! (And I'm on a science kick right now.)

Oh well.