Because I like to have a book for every reading mood under way, at any given time, my stack is an unwieldy creature.
But even with an unreasonable number of books in my stack, only one or two of those books would be exceptionally long.
Lighter-weighted volumes outnumber the bulky tomes, as if I’m afraid that, in an instant, I might be required to pack up and move.
Now, under #StayHome directives, there’s an opportunity to stack the deck in favour of heft.
This year will be remembered for many things. Perhaps also as a record-breaking year for reading bigger books.
From each of these stacks, I’ve begun to read one volume. What would your choices be? (Pictured, or otherwise.)
In the first image, a stack of well-read (but not by me) pocketbooks of the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s.
James Michener’s The Source (1965) is the only one I’ve read much of. Once I read half of it, and stopped when Jesus was born. (Coincidental: it happened to be the halfway mark and, after all, the volume’s spine cracked hard there, it became awkward to hold.)
Although I intended to read Colleen McCullough’s The Thorn Birds after falling in love with Richard Chamberlain in the 1983 mini-series based on this 1977 novel, I only liked a few parts about Meggie.
One of my grandmother’s favourite novels, Belva Plain’s 1978 novel Evergreen is now part of a five-book-long series (the most recent volume was published in 2010).