I made an effort, starting in August of 2010, to pay attention to what I was reading. This was in part to avoid some of the re-reading I am for which I have a tendency; say, when was the last time I read Dutchman (by Richard A. Knaak) or Oath of Fealty (by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle)? It was also in part to ensure that I was reading more substantive titles, the type of material I had been avoiding for some time.
Well, I have one month left on the clock and it isn't looking good as I had hoped, but maybe about what should have been expected. According to my count, and that should be accurate, I'm at: 23 plays, 4 non-fiction books (and one essay), 15 novels, and 50 short stories. Who do I blame for any shortfall? Netflix. I have watched something in the neighborhood of 100 movies and 9 seasons of television shows in the last seven months. The really cut down on the reading.
Still, there were some triumphs. Two of the shorter novels -- novellas, really -- were started and finished on the same day. I read three of Stephen Woodward's Violet series (oddly starting with #2, With Red Hands, a book sent by my aunt that I picked up because it fit in my pocket when I was looking for something to read on the train) in two days each. I have taken the real reading as seriously as I should and still managed to read some fluff, some filler.
I have one novel and seven plays in the hope to finish before the deadline pile. I'm hoping to read one more non-fiction book and maybe an collection of short stories in addition to those. I have so many books I want to read, ones I already own -- wasn't I supposed to have finished Next of Kin: What Chimpanzees Have Taught Me About Who We Are and Rousseau's Dog at some point? At any rate, come the beginning of next month I hope to have a few words on what I got out of that year (other than to avoid Netflix if you are serious about being a reader) and how I have managed to avoid so many books that nearly everyone else had read by the time they graduated high school.
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