Catching Up

I’ve been silent on this blog for a while, mostly because I’d been using it to write about books I’ve been reading, and somehow my attitude toward writing about books changed when I began reviewing regularly for Roverarts and Black Gate. It’s still fun, but I find I approach it with more seriousness, more weight — so writing becomes more time-consuming as a result. Add that to the fact that a lot of what I’m reading I’m also writing about for those sites, and I think it’s time that I rethought the purpoose of this blog. I haven’t come to any firm conclusions yet, but we’ll see what transpires.

Mewanwhile, I do still want to keep track of my reading, at least in terms of raw numbers. So let’s see: in October I read four books, one of them from the library, and due to the presence of two book fairs I added forty-three. So down forty on the month. In November I read two, and added thirteen; down eleven. In December I read four, and added nine; down five. In January I read seven, and added one; up six.

So in 2010 I read a hundred and two books, and added a total of thirty-three. That’s mostly due to three book fairs (Concordia, McGill, and the Friends of the Westmount Library) in October and November. Add my birthday in September and Christmas, and the trend here seems to be that I have to read a lot early in the year to have any hope of balancing out the amount of new books I get later on. Something to remember.

August 2010 Reading Summary

Again, a tardy post. I've been a bit busy, with some writing appearing at Blackgate.com and at The Rover. In particular, I've had a long critical piece being serialised at Black Gate over the past few weeks, as I talk about fantasy worlds and uncover who the first writer was to set a novel entirely in a fantastic otherworld; the big wrap-up, in which I name that writer, goes this Sunday.

I've also been reading a fair bit. I read eleven books in August. Two of them were library books, and one was borrowed. I also added one book to the apartment. So seven up on the month. Year-to-date, I'm looking at eighty-one books read so far this year, twenty-four fewer unread books about the apartment.

It has occurred to me that if I accept that I've got about a thousand unread books, then if I whittle that figure down at the rate of twenty per year I can get through them all in fifty years. I'd be eighty-seven. That sounds about right. What I really ought to do is make a precise count. Maybe next month.