Ever since I was eight, I’ve had the urge to make a list of all of the books I’ve ever read. It started innocently enough–by my seventh birthday I’d already garnered the moniker “bookworm” and at eight, I’d decided to keep a list of books I read every year. Except, I never managed to keep up with said list. Oh sure, it always worked out for a month or two, but after that I’d forget…a month would go by, then two. By the time I’d remember my list, I’d have read another twenty, thirty, maybe forty books.
I read very quickly.
Anyway, here I am decades later, still wishing I’d managed to maintain a list. I must’ve read over a thousand books by now. I’m pretty sure my yearly count almost always flirts with 100, maybe more now that my “job” is reading.
The best I ever manage to do is keep a running list of favorites. This year, some of them are: