May 30, 2024

The Woman Who Always Knows What to Read

My most frequent fantasy.

Staring out the window at the moors through rain-spattered glass, mug of tea in hand, cable-knit afghan draped artfully around your sweater-clad shoulders, you ponder your choices. You have consulted your lists. You have many lists. You love making these lists. Lists by theme, by author, by season. You can remember why you want to read each book simply by glancing at its title. You consider such factors as seasonality, genre, tone, keeping in mind where each book fits in the wider constellation of your bibliophilic endeavor. After a period of contemplation, you nod with great equanimity and quiet assurance.

You walk through your home with resolve. The rain is falling harder now, as if to affirm that your decision to stay in and begin a new book this afternoon is the correct one. You are not distracted by the siren call of all the other books you have that will not be read today as you gain the bookshelf upon which your quarry rests. You reach out, and as your fingertips brush its spine, a pleasant tingle runs up your own.

This one. This is next.

~~~~

This is what I fantasize about. Not beautiful people or endless money—though perhaps those are structural components of this fantasy, I have never inquired. The spine-tingling dream is being able to decide what to read next, and then starting that book.

My reading follows no plan. I find making plans difficult, keeping them even more so. I know this is due to brainfactors beyond my control, and I’m gentle with myself about it in most areas of my life. But when it comes to reading—oh, how I long to make a list and read my way through that list. The satisfaction! The pleasure!

I’m sure this is so attractive to me because I am currently dissatisfied and displeased. It’s May. I do not have moors. I am in a reading slump. Nothing hits the spot. The books aren’t written right, they aren’t landing right, they aren’t shaped right.1 I am overcome by the very concept of a “TBR.” What do you do when your “to be read” is… all the books you haven’t read that you are interested in reading? That’s a lot of books, me hearties. How do I start sorting them out?

Perhaps I will follow my fantasy self and make a list, considering such factors as seasonality, genre, and tone, keeping in mind where each book fits in the wider constellation of my bibliophilic endeavor.2

First of all, and this is very important—I am only thinking about books I have in the house. Don’t cry for me, Eggletina, I am not stinting myself. The options are almost endless.

Let us consider seasonality. It is a very warm May, and as previously noted, I do not have moors ‘pon which to rest my eyes. Do I want to read a book that reflects the heat, or seeks to repel it? Is this a good time for a thriller set in Scandinavia during the winter and or/ at some snowed-in locale in particular? Will that be soothing or irritating? Sounds like there will be murders, and I do love a fictional murder. I have a few of those lying around, including a Christmas murder set on a snowed-in train, which—maybe that is a tad too unseasonal. Christmas out, snow a definite possibility. (One By One by Ruth Ware is tripping gaily to mind here. Spouse thinks I will like it, and I haven’t read anything by her before.)3 I thought for a minute about something in a warm climate, but my brain made a noise like it has a hairball. So, no.

Now, let us consider genre. I love genre fiction, and believe strongly that all fiction is genre fiction. “Literary”—that limp, disapproving catch-all—is a genre. I said it, I will say it again, I will say it to anybody. With that out of the way, the question is, what genres am I most interested in spending time with? (“The ones with murders!” my ever-helpful Reading Id squeaks.) The last book I read that I really enjoyed was a fantasy mystery that I will describe as fungal noir, and the two before that were rereads of Agatha Christie But Gay mysteries that I adore.4 So the question is, have I read enough mysteries for now, or do I want some more? I will consider it.

And tone. Tone! Do I want something light and arch? Gothic and resounding? This is the problem—I buy books in one mood and then I don’t read them right away, and the mood shifts, and I buy more books in a different mood, and then I am in a mood, but does that mood match the books from the prior mood? Is it off by one little angle of moodlet? Probably. Will I let that stop me? No!5

For my last trick, I will keep in mind where each book fits in the wider constellation of my bibliophilic endeavor. This seems like a lot (see footnote 2), but let’s try for a second. What is my reading for? Why do I read? Even when I’m in a slump, even when every book seems wrong and nothing fits, I’m never not thinking about reading. My most frequent fantasy is about picking out books. So why?

I love it.

That’s too simple. Seriously, that’s so simple it’s probably avoidant. But this post is too long already. I’ll revisit another day.6

You’ll notice after all this, I still haven’t chosen a book to read. I guess what’s really holding me back is the lack of moors.

See you next time,
Miranda