Because I had a tendency to go to the library and simply pluck books nearly at random off the shelves, I have little idea about the majority of books I’ve ever read. On Goodreads (and if you’re a reader and haven’t tried Goodreads, try it), you can list every book you’ve ever read, but I simply can’t remember entire years in my reading.
We aren’t exactly talking about great literature, for the most part.
So, every once in a while I wonder what I’m forgetting. Are there magnificent books hidden deep in the crevices of my cantankerous brain? I bet there are. But I bet there are more trashy novels than you could shake a stick at, given a desire to shake a stick (and who doesn’t have a stick-shaking need every once in a while?) in the general direction of books.
Do I have a point? No. I can’t believe you read this far thinking I did.
Hmmm….Somewhere there must be a point. Oh, yes, how funny that you could even imagine remembering every book you ever read! At 77 it wouldn’t even occur to me to try. Every now and then I pick up a Trollope I think I haven’t read, get half way through, and realize that I have sometime in the past.
It just seems like reading a book should have a tiny bit of impact on my life. Instead, they are just gone. Ziiiiiip.
Admittedly, quite a few were romances and I knew at the time they weren’t memorable, but still! Having impossible demands of myself is part of my charm!
I suppose it might be good to remember every one of life’s pleasures, but then, one might have to remember all of life’s pain. They say time heals all wounds, and I guess it also blurrs all life’s joy.
Making impossible demands on yourself at least gives you something to live up to, even if you don’t get there. Making ill-considered or irrelevant demands is something else again. I would avoid doing that.
I didn’t mean to sound so preachy
You are indeed charming. That’s why I read your blog regularly.