Twelve Books on the Go?!

I finished two books in quick succession (a Taylor Caldwell novel and a juvenile biography of The Three Stooges) at the end of August, but during these first few days of September, I seem to be in one of those unfortunate cycles in which I can't finish anything and keep adding new reads. As of today, I have 12 books on the go. One dozen! I'm in various stages with each of them.  Some are barely begun, some are nearly finished, but I cannot seem to get the bookmark to move all the way to the end. Nothing qualifies as a DNF, partly because I'm interested in finishing and partly stubbornness.

Here are the twelve books currently languishing on my currently-reading shelf:

1. Washington: A Life. I've been working on this biography of our first president for nearly a year. It's not you, George. It's me. I cannot tell a lie. Also: I'm sorry, Ron Chernow! You know how I loved the hell out of Alexander Hamilton.

2. Margaret Wise Brown: Awakened By the Moon - Leonard S. Marcus. I really disliked the execution of the new Brown biography published earlier this year, so I bought this earlier bio in a fit of pique. After reading a few pages, I felt my annoyance and interest ebbing away. Since this is a real book, as opposed to a digital one, I want to finish it and move it along.

3. A Taste for War: A Culinary History of the Blue and the Gray - William C. Davis. Food. History. What's not to like? A Taste of War is a slim volume, but so far, it's stiff academic reading. Starchy, if I may use a food simile. I can't quit though because, well, food! Recipes! I've never quit on a food book. Never. This book will not be my Appomattox.

4. The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt. I am really ashamed of myself about this one. I got 150 pages in and I stalled. Could not read another word. The book went back onto my Pulitzer shelf where it sits, reproaching me. I must go on because, well, Pulitzer fiction!!!

5. Heads in Beds - Jacob Tomsky. I was enjoying this witty, insider look at the hospitality industry. The small, fat paperback copy fits nicely in my purse. I need to put in back in there for all those dull blank moments in which I'm stranded somewhere without a book.

6. Clockers - Richard Price. A rich, complex novel that reminds me very much of The Wire. Alternating chapters tell of drug dealers and the cops who work that beat. I got stalled when the POV shifted. I will return to Clockers; it's too good to set aside permanently.

7. A Gentleman in Moscow - Amor Towles. I am almost through with this novel. I didn't love it the way I loved Towles' previous effort, Rules of Civility, but it's pretty good. I wish I hadn't gotten sidetracked.

8. Buried Child - Sam Shepherd. I am having to accustom myself, after many years, to reading in play form again. All those stage directions and blocky blocks of dialogue.

9. See What I Have Done - Sarah Schmidt. A novel based on the Lizzie Borden case. Schmidt relies heavily on atmosphere, and my nerves felt jangly after a while. Needed a break at the halfway mark.

10. The Cooler King - Patrick Bishop.  The true story of William Ash, the pilot who was "the greatest escaper" from WWII German POW camps. Steve McQueen's character in The Great Escape was based on Ash's experiences. I've only just started this book, but I can see that it's well-written and the style engaging.

11. Confederates in the Attic - Tony Horwitz. My son and I are both reading this book at the same time! I do love a good, impromptu mother/son book club.

12. Dark Victory: The Life of Bette Davis - Ed Sikov. A fun, gossipy read. I'm hoping that it will be a nice balance of discussion about Bette Davis's life and an intelligent examination of her film roles.

So there you have it. Someone please scold me and send me to my room with my books and strict orders not to come out until I've completed a few.

F This, I'm Getting A Bookshelf

Last year, I decided to be noble and not take up so much space in the spare bedroom with my bookshelves. That space was needed for a twin bed or a futon for overnight guests.

Long story short, I moved the shelves out to the garage where they hold canned goods. The books are lined up along the tops of my dresser, desk and nightstand. The excess books are stored in plastic boxes under the bed.

The spare bedroom still has no twin bed or futon for visitors. Come to think of it, there have been no visitors.

Meanwhile, new books are coming into my life, or perhaps the old ones are breeding, and my bedroom is overrun. Books are stacked up, and while I love a book pile more than most, there's also that overwhelmed feeling.

My first thought was to go through the Bybeeary and cull out some titles, but I don't want to cull and I don't want to stash any more books away under the bed or out in the garage. I love my books and I want them on display. I long to see them on a shelf once more, standing up proudly and vertically with their spines neatly aligned.

Soon, very soon, the spare bedroom will house the Bybeeary again. I'll direct any overnight visitors to the living room couch.

Snack! Goes the Bookworm

What I'm reading now:

Alexander Hamilton - Ron Chernow
The Cowboy and the Cossack - Clair Huffaker
Villette - Charlotte Bronte

What I'm eating now:
What am I not eating?

Let me back up a little.

As you know, the night time is the right time to be with the book you love. Anytime from eleven to midnight will find me crawling into bed with my Kindle, earphones, and assorted library books or paperbacks from my very own Bybeeary. Everything I could want or need, right?

Well lately, I have felt the need....the need for feed.

I am not a bedtime snack kind of person. I prefer to have dinner at six or seven then game over till breakfast. But these past few weeks, I've been going in search of chips, cookies, crackers, mixed fruit and nuts, chocolate...I'm sure there is something I'm forgetting. Oh, right, once there was pie. After the snack, I finally settle down and read for thirty minutes to an hour before falling asleep.

I try to fight this urge to chow down. Some nights I win, but those victories are getting fewer and farther between. Not surprisingly, my clothes are getting a bit tighter.

Why this change? Is it a sign of a weak character? Is it just knowing that the snacks are there and available? Is it menopause putting one last whipping on me?

I think I have finally figured out the answer:

I'm not hungry. I'm tired. I'm staying up too late then trying to fit my reading in on top of that. By that time, my brain wants a boost, a quick boost, which translates to something sweet or salty or both. Crunchy. Yes, God help me, crunchy.

Does this make it OK to snack? It's all for books and reading -- what could be nobler? I can't possibly go to sleep without reading; that would just feel wrong. An early bedtime? Nah. Being able to stay up as long as I damn well want is one of the few perks I've truly enjoyed during these last 3-plus decades of adulthood.

I suppose my best solution would be to prepare for the snack attack and have some healthy snacks on hand like fruit or yogurt. Veggies.

I could also grudgingly agree to give into Mr. Sandman for a while then wake up feeling fine after a short nap, able to sink my teeth into a few chapters at 3 a.m.

I could also drink water while reading. I don't think I would last long, but when I woke up, I would get in more reading time while relieving my protesting bladder.

It's 11:45 p.m. now. I am putting off going to bed, even though I want to get back to The Cowboy and the Cossack for a chapter or two, then finish off the night reading about Alexander Hamilton. But the Cheetos are looming large. Every time my mouth falls open in a yawn, they see an opening.

Bybeeary in Boxes? Am I Tough Enough?

Okay, so once upon a time, about 6 weeks ago, we moved and my new bedroom didn't have enough room for all my shelves (I put the Pulitzer collection in my bedroom), so these shelves were placed into the spare bedroom, along with a lot of other furniture that doesn't fit.

Mom has a lot of furniture. Much of it is in the garage we are still renting at our previous place. She is quite attached to her many pieces: "I could tell you stories about that one!" "I can't let that go!" "That table is a friend!" "That was your great-grandmother's!" "Your great-great grandfather built that  table for your grandmother and gave it to her for her 16th birthday!"  

Now she has a brand-new friend: A custom-built solid oak desk/TV stand. The rather large new friend went into her bedroom and the piece she was using went into the spare bedroom.

Even though there's all this furniture, we would like to get one more thing: a small bed, daybed or futon for guests. Right now, there's no room for this sort of thing.  I am feeling frustrated, because at some point, there will be guests, and it irks me to see the spare bedroom so non-functional, basically a dumping ground.

It's no good to ask Mom to part with some of her stuff, or even shuttle it to the rental garage. In fact, she would like to get more out of that garage and sort of...do a second layer of furniture...I couldn't really listen.

So I brooded and brooded. I made the Brontes look like Gretchen Rubin. 

Then it hit me that I am part of the problem in that spare bedroom. Those two bookshelves eat up a lot of wall space! They are also the only pieces of furniture over which I have any say. If I take out my bookshelves, the stuff on the opposite wall can be shifted and then there will be space for a bed/daybed/futon.

But then there's the bookworm part of me: 

Take out the shelves? Put the books in boxes? 

 Eeek.

 At these moments, it's difficult to put my Kondo where my mouth is.

All the books wouldn't have to go into storage. There's a nightstand in my room with two shelves. My turtle collection is there, but I could move it and stick in quite a few books. Then I could get some bookends and make a line of TBRs across my desk. The other books I would lovingly store in  plastic containers that would fit under my bed. I won't get rid of anything; I went through that ordeal during the international move.

Yikes, this goes against my grain, but on the other hand, I want to live in a home that looks nice and is fully functional. I'm up for the challenge. I'm quailing on the inside, but determined to apply some creative thinking and artful maneuvering to make this a success. Am I bookworm tough? Stay tuned!

The Bybeeary Goes Splitsville

For the first time in a decade, I am living in a room that can't fit all my bookshelves. Buying a smaller bed was not an option, so I had to put one bookcase in my bedroom, and the other two in the spare bedroom.

The Pulitzer fiction sleeps with me, of course.

Don't worry, I told the others. I'll visit you often.

And I do.