Thanks to everybody who has subscribed so far! Rather than have two separate essay series - especially as one week really is easy to cram for someone of my aspiring prolificity - the Fiction, Truth and Tribulation series will be used to fill the gap when I don’t have fiction ready on Wednesdays. Such as today.
Over the years, I have done more collecting than reading. Not that I have been slacking in the reading department. Back when I had my first Goodreads account, I read 190 books in single year. (and no, I didn’t only read those little books from Penguin) But only recently has the urge to collect mellowed down. A relief, no doubt, to some friends of mine who think I am insane.
Which means: I have a lot of books to look forward to. Years of mostly classics, world literature and books from my various favorite nonfiction topics to enjoy over the next few years.
Regrets? Absolutely none, although my back might disagree after some of the heavy lifting. (and no, I have no desire to buy a Kindle) But as I’ve collected books and shared the joy of reading and collecting over the years, I cannot sit down in the presence of all this glorious literature without realizing:
I am alone. Not me as an individual, thank the Lord, though like everybody I’ve known those times. I, a reader, am alone among non-readers.