First point: I read a lot. Sometimes I read too much. Often I feel that the books I read fail to reward my time. I've documented all this at my weblog Genius Toiling in Obscurity.
Second point: My partner and I have just moved to a new house, where, despite having undertaken massive weeding projects in recent years, we have lined nearly a whole room with bookshelves. On these shelves are hundreds of books that, although they haven't been read in years, nonetheless have survived several rounds of brutal culling.
Let's review: Reads a lot. Often disatisfied with books she reads. Owns hundreds of books she thinks she likes well enough to haul around from house to house but which, in fact, she has not opened since Reagan was our president.
From this fertile ground grows The Bookshelves Project. I propose to devote the next several months to reading only books that are already in the house as of June 6, 2003, the Project's official launch date. Phase I of the project ends this fall, when Neal Stephenson's Quicksilver is published and my pre-ordered copy arrives from Amazon.com.
The exceptions to the rule: That I plan to read a couple of Sci-Fi paperbacks we picked up at a used bookstore earlier this week violates the spirit, though not the letter, of the law. Oh, well. Also, I am in the public library queue for two books, and have been for a long time. When I finally reach the top of the line, I get to read them.
I do not plan to be especially systematic, but I do have a few guidelines. I hope, for instance, to resist the temptation to start with the books I re-read every year anyway, like Cryptonomicon and everything by Jane Austen. Also, I've mined the science fiction collection pretty well in recent years; it came into the relationship with David, and after we moved in together I spent many happy months working my way through it. It is one of the least-weeded sections of our library because both of us visit it for enjoyable re-reads whenever we're at a loss for material. I expect I'll spend some time there--I'm looking forward to re-visiting some Vernor Vinge--but I'm most interested in books I wouldn't re-read if not for this project: the ones I loved as an adolescent and young adult, the ones that seemed deep to me in days as a pretentious intellectual, the ones that shaped the lesbian separatist politics of my twenties, and the ones that I frankly suspect can be included in the next donation to the library.
I'll report here on each book: my history with it, my expectations going in, and what I learned from re-visiting it. The adventure begins.
Posted by Su Penn at June 6, 2003 02:55 PM | TrackBack