Only so many books left

How many books do you have left? Last night, a discussion at the book club I frequent turned serious. Even for those with a prodigious capacity for reading, there could still only be a certain number of novels one could read in a year. And only a certain number of years left to each of us. Imagine a stack of yet unnamed and unread books that constitute your entire future reads. How distressing is it for you when the one you’ve just finished is nowhere near the level of a good read?

That prompts a number of questions, not least of which is what exactly is a good read. For most involved in the discussion, a good read, minimally, is never a waste of time. That, in itself, may not shed a great deal of light on the subject. In the right mood, a thoroughly entertaining or adventurous read might be just the tonic one needs. On the other hand, a ponderous tome that one plods through without pleasure might be a clear waste of time regardless of how frequently its merits are insisted upon by others. It is as though, for a good read, we are each looking for the right novel at the right time, which can be read in the right way.

But what of that hint of fear I heard in some voices? What is its source? And where can we turn for the recommendation that will place the right novel in our hands at the right time? The novel we had just read had an enticing but ultimately unsatisfactory answer to that question. And I found that when I was asked it directly, I also had nothing like a well-considered reply.

I have a shelf of books in my room that I intend to read in the near future. Each time I finish reading a novel, I turn to that shelf and consider what to read next. I also have a list of books not on that shelf but to which I have easy access at the local library. And of course there is a far larger unwritten list of books that might, given my current state of knowledge, understanding, and sensitivity, be plausible selections for me. I know that I tend to read authors; if I enjoy one book by an author, I will tend to read all that he or she has written. I know that I have no real tolerance for mysteries or horror. I’m certainly influenced in my choice by what I have most recently read. And I might have one or two books that I have fixed upon as definite choices in the year ahead. But more than any of these, I will tend to take the advice of a trusted friend.

Why is the recommendation of a trusted friend so persuasive? And what does he or she suggest that I read next?

Posted in thinking.