My TBR pile is beginning to feel like the dreaded ‘slush’ pile of my junior years when, working in London for one of those companies, we use to take 1 to 5 unsolicited MS home at a weekend, and skim read them. Most were soooo bad, you couldn’t get past ten pages without rolling your eyes heavenward. But, still, diligently, you made copious notes and dropped them back off on the secretary’s desk, Monday morning.
Why am I equating my towering TBR pile with the slush pile of by gone years? Because, I’m shirking reading anything from it. I blame it on the hot, hot, hot weather we’re having this year. If I thought July was hotter than hell, I forgot August could be worse. It was 31 degrees this morning at 8 am … at freaking 8 am people! The humidity is to blame: it’s 98%.
So what, I hear you say … so, it means instead of staying at home (and reading, like any normal person might do) I’ve been sneaking off to the mall and … I keep buying new books. What’s worse, my book-radar is broken, and I keep buying naff books based on creative and or suggestive titles, or neat colourful covers and, because I’m not taking the time to read the first chapter, keep coming home, starting said new book(s) and, being utterly deflated when I start struggling because said book is soooo boring.
I use to be really good at this. I had a finely tuned and well honed radar, and with laser sights, homed in on this or that great book with unerring accuracy. Not any more, I seem to be drawn to every dud the bookstore has to offer.
So I’ve made myself a promise. I will not slink off to the mall to hang out in the AirCon confines, or sneak into the nearest bookstore. I’ll make do, sweat it out on the couch in front of a decrepit fan, and read each and every book in my TBR pile, dutifully.
Especially since I have a signed copy of Louise Penny’s GLASS HOUSES staring at me from the bottom of the pile. I mean, how could I keep ignoring it, right?