A Novel Idea

I have this thing about books. I really didn’t even put my finger on it until I was pressed to explain it to someone once. The conversation had come up about getting a book from the library and I simply stated I never read books from the library. I mean to say, I did as a child, but once I reached an age where it was up to me to determine where my books came from, the library has NOT ONCE been the choice.

As I tried to explain why, I began to realize the lengths to which I had gone in college to not spend time in the library and certainly to not actually read something from the library. If I had to find 5 journal articles on a topic and then write a paper, I went, found them, COPIED them, took them home and wrote the paper (keep in mind, the internet wasn’t around just yet, not around as it is now anyways or dear god I would have never left my dorm room at all!)

Books to me are a sacred experience. They tell a story, move a person, relate in some manner by similarity or complete lack thereof to my own life. A library book clearly shows wear, it’s tarnish surface tells me that someone else has read this book (duh, I know) and that someone else has already HAD this experience. And therefore, I don’t want it. I want the experience to be my own. I want to hold it and read it and relate to it and know that it was personal, and just for me. A library book feels used, tapped out, emotionless. A new book is waiting for me and ONLY me to pick it up and read it.

This is not to say that I don’t like to hear about people reading books that I have read. For example, if someone were to say, “Did you read Kite Runner?” I would be thrilled to know that they read it and to have someone to talk to about the book. But I can only do so knowing they didn’t read MY copy of Kite Runner. Lending someone my book is an easier task, however, than me borrowing a book. I just won’t do it. If you say it’s a great read, then I’ll go get my own copy to read. (I also realize you don't italicize book titles, but I can't figure out how to underline...)

And I realize, this isn’t very frugal of me at all. You’ll have to forgive me this luxury. There is a certain sense of accomplishment, however, when I look around my house and see all the books that I have read.

Another issue I have with books is knowing too much before you’ve even started. I’m much the same way about movies. Tell me it’s good and tell me nothing more. When I shop for new books, it’s by one of two ways. One: I browse Barnes and Noble and pick up books simply because I’ve read the author before, because the title catches me, or because the front cover is somehow intriguing. If I read anything, I will read the inside flap and ONLY the first sentence. “She was an African women by heritage, now living in Bangkok…” that’s all I want to know. If I were to read the entire flap, I would know half of the book’s plot before I even started reading. I don’t want to know!! I don’t want to hear that her brother was a missionary and was killed by locals in a remote forest in Asia. I don’t want to know that the book’s main point is to drive home the absurdities of stereotypes. I don’t want to know the lesson, the moral, the plot, the character, any of it, until I’ve read it. The other way is to log on to Amazon.com and see what they recommend for me. I update the list according to what I own and what I have no interest in and they tell me other great titles I might enjoy. Voila! Recommendations without me having to know anything at all!

So, not only will I only read a new book, I will only read a book that I know very little about. Which is why I cannot, under any circumstances, read a book with “Oprah’s Book Club” stamped right on it. Millions of people are currently reading that very same book, and just turning on the tv I will hear more about the book than I want to before I’ve even started it. Too trendy, too popular and too much information. Not for me.

So, considering all of this (and thank you for not sending me to the nut farm just yet), paired with my extreme boredom at work, I recently found books online and decided to read Tolstoy’s Anna Karenin. Why not? I’ve never read it and here it is!

While I am really not in favor of reading a “book” on the computer, it has had its advantages. First of all, there is no appearance at all if someone else has read this “book”. There is no binding to be broken, to pages to be dog-eared, nothing. And secondly, I have no idea how long it actually is, or how close I am to the end of it, so as I progress, anything and everything is possible. I’m not reading quickly because I know I’ve reached the “wrap it up” part, I’m not plodding through looking for clues in every statement knowing that I’m at a critical juncture of the book. I’m reading it as it comes to me and I’m enjoying it tremendously.

Now, all this said, it’s killing my eyes and my back and makes me miss being curled up under warm blankets, propped up by oodles of pillows on the couch just to spend the afternoon reading, but it’s passing the time nicely and better yet, it isn’t costing me a dime! (In fact, I’m technically getting paid to do it!)

So, here’s to online books! Now, back to Tolstoy -- I have to go finish it before someone tells me what happens!