When I started hanging around with writerly folk, I began hearing about a particular list – a TBR. Everyone seemed to have one. Some people had extensive ones. People laughed about it and sometimes seemed quite proud of the length of theirs. Eventually, I worked out it was an acronym for To Be Read. It seems writers, also being readers, have a strong tendency to buy lots of books but then not have enough time or a quiet enough opportunity to read them.
This knowledge released me from a huge amount of guilt. I’m harbouring one of those piles too. I just hadn’t realised it was a badge of honour. I’m a sucker for a captivating cover or a brilliant back cover blurb. I love nothing better than perusing bookshops for my next book, drawn in by all the possibilities and other worlds. I don’t limit myself to any particular genre, although I seem to have a strong liking for books about women who defy convention, either blatantly or subtly, and true stories about people who have overcome difficult things.
If I’m feeling really busy, I have a soft spot for a good YA (young adult) novel. Anything I can read in about three to four hours makes me feel I’ve achieved something wonderful – a quick holiday elsewhere amongst the dashing about of my normal life, without having to pack and repack my suitcase three times (I *might* have a small problem with over packing, because I also believe in having fun outfits) and invariably still not include something important that turns out to be difficult to find elsewhere.
I also have an agenda of supporting local authors, especially if I can get them to sign my books when I buy them. Lisa Collyer, Katrina Kell, Natasha Lester, Josephine Taylor, Wendy Manzo, Adam Byatt and Emily Bridget Taylor’s dedicated tomes all grace my shelves. I have several books by Elaine Fraser, too, but I haven’t gotten her to sign them yet.
Then there are the books I didn’t choose – the gifts, and the ones my sister has finished reading and forwarded to me to enjoy. I also have several books about writing that I could learn a lot from, if I ever opened them! And then there are the ones I had to chase down for my current unit of study, which are not what I would ordinarily read, but are still interesting. While the Uni ones have a read by date on them if I want to pass my next assessment, it’s up to me when the rest get their turn.
Sometimes I wonder if the appeal of all those books is that if I haven’t read them yet, they are still full of promise and potential. I don’t love every book I read, but I don’t want to not like any of these covers, titles and back blurbs that drew me in with their promise of worlds other than the one I wander in daily. That is definitely the case with the two books I bought while on holiday, which were wrapped in brown paper with only an idea of the genre written on the front. The mystery holds more appeal to me than the books probably will once opened. And I can draw others into the pondering of what lies inside the plain parcels. It’s a great conversation starter.
I counted my TBR pile the other day. Nearly thirty books waiting for me to give them their due. Their authors worked hard to create them, and I feel the dual pressure of honouring their work and fulfilling my intent to read them. But, where to start? The book I’ve held onto the longest? The one whose author I interact with the most? The one that will possibly help me improve my writing, with the always-present goal of getting my work out there? Or, just the one I think I will enjoy the most at this point in my life?
I could number them all, download a random number generator and work it out based on chance. But that would just be a distraction – a fun way to waste even more time while I research online generators. I could write a list of all my books and ask others to choose which one will begin my reading frenzy. That’s another wonderful way of delaying any decision for a while. I’m probably better off lining them up, closing my eyes and touching one in true ‘pin the tail on the donkey’ style.
Or maybe I need to stop writing about reading and start doing some reading. Sigh. Okay, fine – I’ll see you all again when I’ve worked my way through a few of those titles. No need to send a search party. I’ll be in my lounge room, surrounded by books. Or perhaps in a park, sitting under a shady tree, digging my toes into the soft grass, or even by the beach, enjoying the smell of the salt air and tuning out the squawking of the scavenging seagulls. Part of the pure joy of books is their portability, after all.
I might even be daring and choose to ignore the lessons of my past by having a lovely soak in the bath, my book of choice held carefully above the water and a towel by my side to ensure my hands are always dry. Imagining how I will read is almost as fun as being in a book… and yet another distraction.
Now that you can all see how easily I’ve let my TBR pile grow, I’m off to tackle it! Until we meet again, Happy Reading. May your own TBR piles be high enough to be interesting, but not so extensive that they take on a life of their own.
A Glorious Mess 