From Tuesday's awesome guest blogger Ms. C:
Hey Bookaphiles, does this sound familiar? There's a book on your nightstand, one in your purse, and several strewn about the house (in the kitchen, den, or bathroom) waiting to be picked up and read. Is there a book in your bed? C'mon, it's alright to admit it. I know you try not to do that but sometimes you roll over in the night and your knee hits something pointy and you realize, "Damn, I think that's the James Patterson."
I bet you also pepper in nonfiction with fiction and difficult, meaty books with cotton candy ones. This way, you get a challenge and/or a break, and though you run the very real risk of mentally putting Neville Longbottom in Northanger Abbey, it's worth it in order to match every reading mood with just the right volume.
I bet you've also encountered this happy accident:
And you’d be forgiven for quoting "Ghostbusters" with, "You're right. No human being would stack books this way."
Already, these books, piled high or hidden in nooks and crannies throughout our day-to-day, insist politely but doggedly that we read them. As Liz told me, they "sort of become this living thing after a while, like a pet you feel guilty for not taking care of." Does widdle Dostoyevsky want a treat? Hmmm? Atsa good boy!
That stack there is my daunting task, including all the histories, travel guides, novels, and art books borrowed from friends, the library, or bought with intentions to read. Piled up like that, they seem more like an impatient St. Bernard with a full bladder than a sleepy Jack Russell looking to nuzzle. But like that beloved pet, these books' whining and pawing of the furniture, reminding me of my obligation and responsibility to read them, is forgiven once the book and I are both nestled into a cozy reading chair. Now the challenge is just to find another bookmark!