There are many things in life that I’ve needed to confess. I’m not perfect, after all. Some of those things are only to God, others to my therapist, and then, of course, there have been family members. This week, I’m going to confess to you, bookish folks of the internet, some of my deepest, darkest secrets. About books. If you want to know other things, you’ll need to hang outside my therapist’s office door. That place is not soundproof.
I judge books by their covers. I know that this is not that uncommon, but since I seldom read a book description, it really limits my choices. Kathleen Fuller is one of my favorite authors, and she has a book coming out on December 3rd, but I dislike the cover so much that it is keeping me from being as excited as normal about it. To top it off, this is a very popular book cover style now, so there are tons of books that I’m not reading simply because of that. If Fuller wasn’t a favorite author, I wouldn’t be reading this book.
I rarely buy books. There was a time in my life when I purchased books all the time, but I don’t like to keep them, so I stopped. I’m a library and NetGalley girl. Of course, there are exceptions to every rule. If I just can’t get it from either of those resources, and I really want to read it, I’ll buy it.
I don’t have a bookshelf. Well, technically I do, but only one row is filled with cookbooks. The rest of the shelf? Mostly… stuff. Cat-related stuff, to be precise. Oh, there’s a book called I Could Pee on This on it, but since it’s a cat book, it falls into a gray area. Also, there’s a Harry Potter wand. That’s about as bookish as it gets around here.
I don’t read classics. Especially Jane Austin. I want to read classics. But I can’t get through them. Okay, Little Women I can read. Over and over. And that’s it. Of course, at my age what’s considered a classic may be different now. So maybe I do read classics…let’s just say I don’t. With the one exception.
I am a super slow reader. I get distracted by anything and everything, even if it’s a great book. If I manage to read more than one book in a week, you can bet one of them was a five-star read because I. Just. Can’t. Plus, I have a job that takes up 40 hours of my week. That makes it sound like I don’t like my job, but I do! I just don’t want to work for anyone. But that’s a whole different (and non-bookish) post. And then there’s knitting. So, yeah, not a lot of time for reading.
I won’t read a book and watch the show or movie. It’s one or the other for me. If I’ve seen the movie or show, it’s like reading the last paragraph of the book first—no thank you. Books are so good that I don’t want someone else’s interpretation to mess with my mental imagery. s usual, there’s one exception: Harry Potter.
I avoid long books. Maybe I’m wrong, but in my mind, “long” equates to “intellectual,” and that’s not what I’m looking for. I like to keep things lighthearted. So for me, 350 pages is about my max, unless it’s a collection of short stories.
I went to Earnest Hemingway’s house only for the cats. I’ve never read any of his books and can’t even name a single one—not even after I just included a picture of one above. But if you want to see tons of pictures of his home—with cats prominently featured—I’ve got those in spades.
I check out books from the library and don’t read them. This happens a lot with nonfiction. Since I judge books by their covers, I pick them up, start reading, and then find out they’re just not for me. Not so bad if it’s an e-book, but I’m talking about books that my library had shipped from another location. This is why I’ve given up on nonfiction for now. Besides, there’s not a self-help book out there that’s helped me so far. That’s why I have a therapist.
I do not have a TBR list. Unless you count my NetGalley approvals that I haven’t read yet. If it’s by a favorite author, it’ll get read eventually. For everything else, I either check it out from the library right away if I’m interested or assume I’ll stumble across it later when I need a new read.
I’m sure there are more confessions, like the fact that I don’t know all the bookish acronyms people use in posts. Sometimes, I’m clueless or lost about what’s going on—except for TBR; I’ve got that one down.
What are your bookish confessions?
Can you help me out with the bookish vernacular?
Thank you to The Artsy Reader Girl for hosting Top Ten Tuesday!
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