A Good Book is Like a Piece of Key Lime Pie...

Over the years I’ve built up quite a collection of books. Not so much a large anthology on a certain subject or author, but hopefully a small assortment of works that span themes and ideals important to me. Some are novels recommended by my more literary friends, others are the Christian classic writings of faith that have impacted lives for generations, and some are random collections of plays, poetry, children’s literature, and memoirs. If someone were to look at the books on my shelves they would certainly make assumptions about who I am, what has shaped my thinking, and, ultimately, what I believe. While many such conclusions would likely be accurate, there would come a point where I would need to sheepishly admit that I actually haven’t read many of the books in my collection.

My sister was the avid book reader in our family. She read so much that when she would get in trouble for not completing homework, her punishment from my parents would be to ground her from books for a designated period of time. I did a pretty good job keeping up with her reading prowess when I was younger. I won a lot a reading ribbons in my earlier years (Kindergarten through 3rd grade), but about the time books became more words than pictures, I found myself reading less and less. In fact, I was part of the advanced reading group until 4th grade, at which point I was downgraded due to my ‘lack of reading comprehension.’

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy reading. But the fervency and commitment of my reading is inconsistent at best. Therefore, I might purchase a book with the earnest desire to read it, but will very easily get sidetracked by other less pressing matters. Basically, I think I have literary ADD. I love holding a book in my hands, flipping the pages, even the smell. And yet, I am a slow reader. Often I will read and reread a passage or flip back a few pages to remind myself of who said what or when that event occurred in relation to what is now taking place. But for some reason I can’t consume a book like I do a movie or television program. After twenty or so minutes of reading, I usually need a break in order to give my mind (and imagination) some time to catch up with what I’ve just read. And so, after spending time working on something else, I will usually wander back to my book and pick it up again. Thus the journey continues.

My wife and I love going to bookstores. There are several along the coast that draw us in by their quaint atmosphere, well organized shelves, general cleanliness, and inviting displays. We usually spend more time than expected perusing staff recommendations and making ‘to read’ lists. I’ve grown increasingly self-disciplined in not simply buying everything that catches my eye. However, my current book collection is much a result of a lack of self-control in spending habits prior to marriage.

Sometimes I get caught up in the “I should read this” verses “I want to read this” battle. Too often, the books I buy are of the ‘should’ variety, thus sitting for months and years on the aforementioned bookshelves. To me, a good book (one I want to read) is a precious commodity. One that needs to be savored much like a piece of key lime pie; because once it is finished, it may be a long time until one so palatable is discovered. I know it is a good book when it inspires me to want to write, or when I find time to journal about it, or when I get so wrapped up in it that I forget that I’m even reading at all. So whether it is a newer release from the popular fiction genre, or trying my best to forge through a more literary classic, the test of a worthwhile read, for me, lies more in the process that it does at the end.

Some books I acquired over the years and have yet to read (but really hope to soon) are: The Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien; The Life of Saint Teresa of Avila by Herself; A Morbid Taste for Bones by Ellis Peters; Ruthless Trust by Brennan Manning