098. Books aren’t for horsing...
(morning thinking)
At the top of a staircase made of all the books I never had time to read is a corridor behind a locked door and I'll never know where it leads.
I've built up quite a purposeful reading practice. I read for regular periods at specific points in my day. I like fiction at night and non-fiction in the morning and I’ll mix it up as the opportunity arrises in between. I read different books in different places. What works in my armchair isn’t necessarily good for the bus.
The lists started at the beginning of 2019. My sketchy memory meant that I could forget the name of a book or its author while I was reading, let alone in the months that followed. Keeping a list let me hold onto books a bit longer. Annotating their margins and adding post-it-note markers let me connect with the text and the author more intimately.
My habit is to have lots of different books on the go at the same time. Always two or three, sometimes as many as five books at varying stages and often, quite unexpectedly, overlapping themes or ideas will emerge to connect the different texts.
Folks will say, “How can you read so many books at once? Don’t you get lost or confused?” I suppose sometimes I do, a wee bit, but it’s not unusual to have multiple TV shows on the go. That’s standard practice. People watch an episode of The Strictly Breakdancing, then a high pressure Bakery Challenge, dip into The News, then round the evening off with an episode or two of Game of Intrigue. Reading lots of books is the same.
I like to read stories about characters experiencing transformation or exploring, or pushing back against imposed restrictions. Fiction might be anything from waking up in the body of a giant beetle to an intergalactic culture’s rebellion against a tyrannical empire. I read philosophy and social sciences and difficult books that call themselves popular science and leave me wondering how smart I'd need to be to find them easy to comprehend - I’d need to be much smarter. I like a spiritual exploration and a poke into environmental issues. I like essays and ethnographies.
Having variety seems to propagate those odd connections where an idea mentioned in one book pops up in another. I wanted a way to look back across what I was reading, a way to keep a grip on the reins of my reading practice and to hold these interesting connections between texts.
It’s a mixed bunch and lists hold them together.
My reading list in 2019 totalled 40 books. Seeing that I was so close to having read a book a week inspired a challenge to do so the following year. In 2020 I read 63 books. That sounds impressive but really I just front loaded the year with loads of slim titles and built up a neat lead in the first quarter. The following two years I read 40 and 52 books respectively.
2019 40
2020 63
2021 40
2022 52
The lists are in their fourth year. I can look back at the title and author of every book I’ve read since 2019 and assemble a feeling for the reading and thinking experience of the time. I expect I’ll probably keep doing this, keeping these lists.
I’m not just reading for numbers, books aren’t prizes or conspicuous signalling, but I do wonder why the annual total has become important to me. It’s not about fulfilling a quota or hitting a target. Books are nourishment for the mind and soul and I feel well fed. I read to expand my understanding of people and places, to be more useful. When friends and family have been suffering I’ve read about death and grief, addiction and trauma; I want to be helpful. I read about anger and peace, sleep, nutrition, behaviour and how to build healthy habits. I want to be healthy. To counteract or balance all of that I read silly stories, light hearted detective thrillers and romantic time travel intrigue.
Ultimately I read because it feels good, it's not about the numbers. But I have been thinking about the numbers.
The life expectancy for a man in Scotland is 76.6 years. That raises unpleasant questions, not the least of which is “why is a Scottish person’s life expectancy at birth so low?” The global average is 72.6 years, so we’re better than some, but in the prosperous west, of which we’re surely a part, life expectancy at birth is 82 years. A more worrying question might be, “why is Scottish life expectancy dropping?”.
That’s too big for mornings. At the moment, I’m asking the much easier question, How many books have I got left?
The Office of National Statistics has a life expectancy calculator that gave me a slightly less unsettling result; I might expect 89 years but there’s a one in four chance of living until I’m 93 and the odds are one in ten of me reaching 98. I’ll take those odds.
These estimates are vague and don’t take into account lifestyle choices. I’m generally pretty healthy. I often exceed my five a day by lunchtime, eat a broad variety of different plants, dozens a week (eat the rainbow) and I exercise to the point of sweaty every day. I’m surrounded by loving friendships, trust and acceptance. I don’t drink, smoke or eat meat. I reckon I can push past the estimated ceiling offered by the ONS. I’d like to hit 100 and reject a letter from the monarch. Maybe I get to 100 and see a time where there is no monarch.
FOCUS PAUL. There’s not time here for digression. This new morning writing habit is chewing into what was previously ring fenced and sacrosanct reading time.
When I average my own aspirations with the ONS figures I get a life expectancy of 95. I’m 46 in the summer so that’s another 49 years. That feels like a LOT of time still to go! If I’m currently reading an average of 48.75 books a year I have time for another 2388.75 books.
It’s not going to be as simple as that though. NO course ever runs smooth. Life will slow down here and pick up there. A stretch of time with less child care is on the horizon. There’ll be an inevitable cognitive decline. Maybe it would be best to accept that with good years and bad, the vicissitudes and complexities of life I might get to read half of that number; another 1194.375 books.
For simplicity and to allow time for me to finally, at some point, get round to reading War and Peace let’s round down to 1000.
That’s not such a big number, it doesn’t allow for re-reads, doesn't let me flow slowly, returning to and indulging in old favourites and trusted friends. Books aren’t for horsing through at a gallop.
Life is so full. Time is so short and finite isn’t really negotiable. It’s not at all up for discussion actually. Look at that word “really” sneaking, tone pleading, into the preceding sentence. It’ll do you no good pal!
Acceptance of the reality of our mortality, our temporal fragility, the frugality of our allotted slot, is some aspect or measurement of maturity.
So I have about a thousand books left to read, something like that, and I’ll have to make peace with the idea that many millions more will remain, unread, on the shelf. Not for me.
I’m going to move from my desk to my armchair now. Throwing a tantrum and complaining isn’t going to get me more book time.
Stopping writing here will.
With a thousand books left I’ll have to be quite selective, maintain a strict diet. What would you recommend I tuck into? How many books have you got left?
Imagine if I keep this writing thing going for the rest of my life. On December 31st 2022 I posted my reading list on here. I hope to do that every year. This Substack would have almost fifty years worth of book lists! What a treat!
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Thanks for being here…
Paul.
An insight into how you do things Paul, will never not be interesting! Thank you Sir.
Do you have a method of gauging time allowed for each reading session. Mechanistic with a wee pomodoro timer or something in between obligations, or is there enough time in your mornings and evenings to flow with the chapters and gauge with your nervous system when feels right to conclude for the day?