Books, books, books

Until my investment this weekend in an tall, wide, extra deep set of faux-pine bookshelves, my room has been filled with piles of books on every available surface, and stacked in unsorted mounds near the door. This is because despite not really having a space for them, I can't resist buying books.

Amazon is my scheming temptress, with her free delivery, and recommendations, and unlimited choice... I now know to avoid her, as once she talks to me, it's rare I'll escape without another five or ten books that will sit around me, sad and unread. At least they have company, I suppose.

It's so unnecessary, too. Doing a quick scan of my NEW bookshelves, I reckon that 40% of the books I own I've never read. Forty percent. Though I plan to. Eventually.

Lots of times in the past, I told myself that I wouldn't buy any more books -- but the problem is that I don't have a guilt reflex when it comes to books; rather than a treat or an indulgence, I think of books as tools, as a means to an end. A book which will teach me a new skill, or save me time, or give me a few hours of entertainment, seems like a bargain. And if you think about it, books are a bargain. If you compare buying a book to renting a movie, going to the cinema, or buying a DVD, value-wise, it's a no-brainer - same for CDs too.

So the problem for me is not the value, it's the fact that I don't actually read them! (So thinking about it, the value is awful - spending money with no anticipated return has a rather high NPV). I have hundreds of books that I've never read, and yet I buy more. It's perverse. I'm a chump, I've fallen for the empty and fleeting thrill of ownership, a very faint proxy indeed for the lasting satisfaction that reading and absorbing a great book gives me.

So, it ends here - no more new books at all until I've read the following ten that are presently sitting in my room:

1. Bad Science - a wonderful birthday present... I started the other day and it's a great read. All about evidence-based choices...
2. Homicide, by David Simon - the book that inspired The Wire.
3. Small Giants - Companies that choose to be Great instead of Big
4. The Crusades through Arab Eyes - a souvenir from this summer's trip to Istanbul. I can't wait to read it, it looks fascinating.
5. Sewer, Gas & Electric - a Sam birthday present :-)
6. The Snowball: Warren Buffet and the Business of Life
7. The Pope's Rhinoceros (I bought this second-hand a few years ago and never got round to reading it).
8. The Impressionist, by Hari Kunzru
9. The Bonfire of the Vanities - because I always meant to.
10. India - a History by John Keay - seems like a no-brainer given the political situation right now.

There's a catch, though. There's always a catch...

The catch is that for each of these books, I'll write a brief review on the blog once I've finished it. Which will accomplish two things: first, it'll make sure that I actually do read them, and second, summarising and thinking critically will increase the amount I get out of them. Although, since I re-learned how to read, my retention's gone up massively.

I guess I'd better get started.

Comments

[sampablokuper]

At some point late last year, I, too, set myself the task of reviewing each book I read. The first was to be Vasily Grossman's Life and Fate. This turned out to be a bad choice, because when it wasn't satisfied with being labyrinthine, the book was so harrowing (I'd compare it to grating your own face), that I didn't finish the book; hence, no review... In fact, the very prospect of writing any reviews became associated with the trauma of Life and Fate, which put me off the idea completely.

I'd be interested to know if you have a strategy for dealing with books like that?

[Nick Seeber]

Sam - I hadn't really thought about that, but it's an interesting point.

I think I'd say that a car crash of a book still merits a review (albeit perhaps brief), in the same way that an awful restaurant review can sometimes be far more valuable than a positive one!

Also, only reviewing the books one finishes might give the impression that one is infallible in one's choice of books, which of course one is not...