My very own polysyllabic spree

I feel that I’ve been inspired.

I won’t go too much into the details of the inspiration, because I fear it’s a little embarrasing to admit that it happened at a mega-Barnes and Noble store, but it began with picking up and reading Nick Hornby’s new book The Polysyllabic Spree — “A hilarious and true account of one man’s stuggle with the monthly tide of the books he’s bought and the books he’s been meaning to read.” I thought to myself: “I can do that. I buy books that, chances are, I’ll never read. In fact, I can force myself to read, to begin to enjoy reading as a pasttime again, and then swipe Hornby’s idea and write about it.”

So, as of today, it’s begun. I vow to read at least an hour each day — it shouldn’t be hard, I’ll just have to stop watching so much Aqua Teen Hunger Force when I get home from work (there’s 30 mintues right there.)

The thing is, I should have been doing this for years. Throughout my life, I’ve been surrounded by books. My mother’s living room in her apartment is filled with bookshelves — so many that she often has dreams that they are tipping over and falling through the floor under their own weight. I practically grew up in a used book store, and while it was a trashy romance-novel driven used book store, I was still in contact with bound pages almost every day of my life. I was reading Mallory’s Le Morte D’Arthur in 9th grade, dammit. I like books.

So why don’t I read anymore?

Hopefully, this will curb that longing. Every final day of the month (a time that is usually pretty slow at work, so that will help with writing) I will compile a list of the books I’ve purchased or checked out from the library, and I will compile a list of the books that I actually read, with reasons why I didn’t read the others, and reasons why I liked the books I’ve read. It’ll be a grand expiriment for me. It could also be an excuse to buy more books I’ll never read. I’ll have to raise that level in the monthly budget, i suspect.

So, with trusty Moleskine notebook in hand, I begin my quest. I may finally get around to reading Edward Rutherford’s London, or Paul Theroux’s Riding the Iron Rooster.

Wish me luck.