In much the same way many of us have “Bucket Lists,” I have a Book List. And I hope to read as many titles as possible, from my list, before my last breath. This may not strike you as odd, but it’s somewhat of a surprise to me.
As a kid, I was able to read at an early age. However, that did not mean I was a voracious reader. Far from it. In fact, as I progressed through my school-age years, I deplored reading. And assigned reading was the worst. Sure, there were the occasional books that got to me (A Separate Peace, for example), but those books were rare. Because reading seemed like work, I chose to avoid it. And I was pretty danged successful.
At some point, I became a reader. I think I know precisely when it happened: I saw “The Razor’s Edge,” with Bill Murray in the lead. I was deeply affected by the film and his performance. During one scene, there’s a shot of all the books in his apartment and it was just the most beautiful thing. I know it’s crazy, but the visual of those floor-to-ceiling books made me want to read. And so I did.
And so I do. I have a Book Monkey on my back and I have to feed it once in a while. There are stacks of books scattered around the house, all waiting to be opened. Sadly, I acquire faster than I read. This makes for a rather untidy abode sometimes, but I can’t seem to help myself. Mister doesn’t really complain about it though, so I guess I’m in the clear. For now.
Anyway, one of the books on my list has been War and Peace. Don’t ask why. It’s always been one of those books I thought I should read. And it’s Tolstoy. Spurred by my viewing of “The Last Station” a few years ago, I decided to bite the bullet. I went to the li-berry.
War and Peace is a big, honkin’ book, folks. (The translation I have is 1215 pages.) And my li-berry only allows a 2-week loan. A gal can re-check at the end of said period, but only once. And there was just no flippin’ way I was gonna get through that monster in a month. I was so slow in starting it that I only got to page 68 before I had to turn it in to be re-shelved. I thought I’d have to give up, but Mister got me my very own copy. (He’s well aware of my Book Monkey problem.) So there was no excuse. I had to read the sucker.
The first 70 or so pages were a drag. But then I started to get into the characters and their lives. I was interested enough to keep going, but not interested enough to read into the night and consume the book. I had thought I would finish it last summer. Then I thought I’d be done by Thanksgiving. Then Christmas. Then… I finally finished Monday night. The book has now taken up permanent residency on a shelf.
Some books must be read as quickly as possible. Those books become part of one’s DNA, and they’re gifts. Some books are there to distract us. “Airplane books,” if you will. War and Peace was neither of those for me. It was just a book. I probably won’t forget having read it, but I won’t light up when thinking about it. And I won’t tell my book buddies to get on it, either. I’m glad I can check it off my list. I’m glad I’ve read Tolstoy. But his style (in this particular tome) wasn’t exactly to my liking. And I probably won’t be picking up Anna Karenina any time soon. I’ll tell you something, I’m not so sure about that guy Tolstoy’s future as a writer…