Forgive me bookseller, but it’s been two months since my last completed read. Like beads strewn across the dresser, half-read books lie around my house in piles praying for absolution. Preaching a tone meant for others, I, myself, find salvation in the belief that it’s not a sin to abandon a book mid-journey.
In fact, On The Road (Jack Kerouac, 1957) got stranded somewhere between Paterson and Denver (the second trip out). Beat is about right. It’s a story that’s bleak and boring. Reviews synopsize that there’s a search for spiritualism on the road, but I just see miles and miles of nothingness.
And, far away in Amsterdam, Anne Frank has just decided that it’s going to be a long, drawn out challenge to live with Mrs. van Daan under such close quarters. Reading The Diary of a Young Girl (Anne Frank, 1947) is an on-going event, however, not like flying through the pages of say, Harry Potter.
Adding to the assortment of half-reads, I can honestly say that some titles are memorable while others escape me. I have heard that I should give A Widow for One Year (John Irving, 1998) another fling. Having read A Prayer for Owen Meany (Irving, 1989) — just about one of the best stories ever — I just couldn’t get into Widow and chose, instead to toss it out the proverbial window.
I suppose as cycles go, this is just a stage where a light will shine upon the next true book to be delivered to me.
Of course, I could just let it be and focus on this month’s required book club choice: Life of Pi ( Yann Martel, 2001).