Inspired by Bibi van der Zee's powers of self-denial, I've decided to get all Puritan on my literary ass. I'm not talking about giving up books for a week: that would be weird; I'd have to talk to people. No, what I'm going to do is put an end to buying the little blighters.
We all know how it is these days. The faultline between desire and action has faded to a smudge. I'm not even sure I still bother going to Amazon. It's as if some dastardly sales whizz has infiltrated my brain, hooking my dopaminergic neurones straight up to PayPal. I read about a book. Mmmm... interesting, I think. And two days later it's sitting by my bed.
It last happened last week. I was enjoying the Kapuściński controversy and before I'd even bothered to finish the article I'd spent eight quid. The worst thing, is I'm really excited about my latest acquisition: Kapuściński's book on Haile Selassie. I recently read The Soccer War and loved it. But when will I get to it? What about Travels with Herodotus, which has been patiently awaiting my courtesy? And The Shah of Shahs, which I bought in Foyles in November? And these are merely my Kapuściński whims.
The oniomania has got to stop. I hereby impose a six-month moratorium on book-buying. (I was thinking of a year but I couldn't quite face it.) And now for the fun bit: there's a box in my room filled with unread purchases and I am systematically going to give them my attention. These represent only a fraction of the total (I'm currently "between" abodes, and most of my library is doing time in a depot in Norwood.) So this short list will have to do for now ...
• The Enchanter by Vladimir Nabokov. Reflexively bought on Amazon while reading about The Orginal of Laura several weeks ago. The pre-Lolita "throb". Another pederast and russet-haired colt. I wonder what will happen.
• The Secret History by Donna Tartt. My friends all told me to read it. My girlfriend told me to read it. I was passing a bookshop and I bought it. Then I didn't read it.
• The Book of Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa. I spent most of last year living in Lisbon, a gleefully self-referential literary city, strewn with homages to the dapper lusophone ventriloquist. Every day, I walked past the café at which he wrote. Every day, his book glowered at me from on high in our apartment. I think I might have to read it in a pub.
• David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. Also bought in preparation for my year abroad. I am going away, I said to myself one afternoon while browsing in Bloomsbury. I will have time to read big novels like this. It's a wonder I haven't read it sooner. It didn't even make my suitcase.
• A Jew Must Die by Jacques Chessex. Bought after a talk at a bookshop in north-west London a fortnight ago, mostly on account of the cheery title. It did win the Prix Goncourt though.
• Dangerous Liaisons by Choderlos de Laclos. An ex-girlfriend bade me read it, romantically enough, when we were strolling through Versailles. I think I may even have bought it later that day at Shakespeare & Co. Then I saw the John Malkovich film. And Cruel Intentions. And then I forgot about it.
• Walden by Henry David Thoreau. I have no idea how or when or why this ended up in my box. I suspect it might annoy me. But I've been carting it from place to place for years, so I think I should probably give it a go.
• For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway. I have never read any Ernest Hemingway, I remarked to myself, alarmed, at a bookshop in Brixton a couple of years ago. How can I never have read any Ernest Hemingway? I have still never read any Ernest Hemingway.
• Operation Shylock by Philip Roth. I bought this during a mad spat of impulse buying while researching for a book. That's the problem with research: the more you read, the more you realize you haven't read. And then the more you buy.
• Guns, Germs and Steel by Jared Diamond. I always mean to read more science books. In fact, I always mean to read less fiction and more fact. The thing about fact is, even if it's boring it tends to make the people who read it less so. And Jared Diamond isn't boring. And any book that claims to answer the most "obvious", "important" and "difficult" questions about the whole of human history gets my vote.
NB: In light of the subject matter, and the numerous links that appear on this page, I would be interested to know if anyone has impulse bought any books during the course of this article.
62 comments, and counting ;)
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário