How reading a hundred books in a year feels:
1. it felt rushed there were times when i wished i could have paused at a page and memorize the lines. times when i wished i could live and bed and sing certain lines by heart. but with so many books, i didn't have that privilege. i had to let go often. hold it for just as long as short-term memory allowed, and then move on to the next passage.
2. the things that mattered, stuck anyway. memory is a muscle. i used to be afraid that my brain would run out of memory space if i stuffed it with too many stories. but memory isn't only lodged in the brain, right? memory also takes space in bones and muscle tissue.
i can't tell you details or even chronological orders, but i can still tell you how the books felt. i can still summarize the contents of a book just by looking at the cover. i can tell you the parts that made me cry in the depths of the Lords of the Rings series.
and you can't find your feelings in search engines. so reading still beats the internets. hallelujah
3. great books make great company. great books form great relationships. and that kind of relationships last through the years, long after the bitterest and saddest notes have been forgiven. (here's a gentle pat on your butt for every time you remember me next year, babe. obviously.)
and just like how every person you meet enriches and adds something into your life, so did every book. i read 125 books. at least a hundred of them made me a better, happier, bigger, grateful-er nerd.
4. not every book is worth the time. out of hundreds, there had been at tiny percentage that bombed. like, just krflynkd. dead. unpickable. ever.
i started reading those books for the sake of expanding my horizons (an experiment which went really well with the Hunger Games series and Gaiman's books).
unfortunately, not everything improves with time, no matter how drunk you get. and it gets
or put that damn book away.
5. there's always another book. this is something i need to correct about my past conviction on reading only books by dead writers. some of the books on the best selling lists aren't so bad.
so instead of worrying about running out of Steinbeck and Austen novels, reading books by living authors reversed that sense of scarcity. that there will be more books to read next year. and forever. and since there are so many books to read, we must read fast. and plenty. and always.
maybe next year i'll read 130 books. or just 50. the point is, there will be plenty. and everything wonderful that happened to me this year can repeat themselves next year. as long that i'm reading.
and if this is what growing up boils down to, i'm glad. if reading so much has taught me to be less afraid, more forgiving, and less lonely, then it hasn't been such a bad year at all.
here's list of the books I've read in 2015. Where's your list?