I am the Roger Maris of book reading, or so my husband/source of sports trivia tells me. As of today, I’ve read 61 books this year, which is the same number of home runs Maris had in 1961 to break Babe Ruth’s record.* I am especially Maris-like, my source adds, because I hit 60 books on Monday, and thought, You know, I could probably read one more before midnight Wednesday.** There’s no better competition than the pointless games one plays against oneself.
Not that I broke any records. This is the first year I’ve kept track of my reading habits. I’ve always got a book or two going,*** and people regularly ask for recommendations. They also ask about how many books I read. I never had an answer, until I decided it would be fun (insert “let’s-humor-her” eyebrow raise from class of college freshman) to keep track. Like with a spreadsheet, using different categories.
For what it’s worth, I’ve learned I’m not the only one who keeps track. The Wall Street Journal tells me (OK, tells my source, who actually reads said paper) that Karl Rove and George Bush compete to see who can read more books each year. In 2005, the score was Rove 110, Bush 95. For 2008, Rove read 64 books to Bush’s 40. I can’t brag too much about my total, though; it’s likely that I have a bit more free time than them. And really, I expected I’d read way more than 61 books in a given year. More than a hundred and fewer than, say, one million. I’m a daydreamer with a math problem. Regardless, I present you with the findings from my handsome spreadsheet, a geeky statistical breakdown of the 61:
-33 novels, 15 nonfiction books, 8 short story collections, 5 young adult novels
-One re-read, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, used in my composition class
-Six books by new favorite author Elinor Lipman, who signed one of her books in the nicest, most gracious way an author possibly could to someone trying to publish a book.
-34 female writers to 27 male (including repeats, like Lipman, Hosseini, Richter)
-Several excellent recommendations/loaners from students (Revolutionary Road, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, and When You Are Engulfed in Flames) and the mailman (Water for Elephants, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao). I also really enjoyed I’m With Stupid, but didn’t finish the whole thing. Doesn’t count for the list, according to the in-house Book Referee. Thanks anyway, Caitlin.
-Top month: January, 10 books, when it was cold, dark, and I was on break from teaching. Bottom: November, 1 book, when I guesstimate I read and responded to some 200 pieces of student writing. Eyes ouchy. Grading hand like claw. Time to stare at wall.
-Book I started in June and probably won’t finish until March: Middlemarch. Middlemarch! My drafty English nemesis. See you in ’09, George Eliot.
*Sounds a little puny after the Sosa/McGuire era. Imagine how many books I’d have read on steroids. My source tells me that back in the day, there was also some controversy over the Maris record. Some officials suggested including an asterisk due to when the record was accomplished/season lengths, etc. But those kinds of pesky facts have no place in a quasi-blog, says this retired sports reporter.
**Number 61 feels a little cheap, truth be told. I enjoyed Forever Summer, Ray Bradbury’s sequel to Dandelion Wine (which I read back in high school or college). But the 200+ pages had pretty wide margins, and big text. Kind of a gimme. Still: it took the man 55 years to write it, so that counts for something.
***Predictably, the housework suffers. The last furnace filter looked like it was wearing an attractive gray wool sweater. Only yesterday I located the unwashed tablecloth from Thanksgiving. But what’s better: fleeting cleanliness, or knowing juicy, gossipy details about Joni, Carole and Carly (Girls Like Us)? I know where I stand.
