Everybody I know seems to have some sort of system in place when it comes to choosing their next book to read. Be it what they have to review, or just how they pile their books as they get them, or whatever. I however have no such system. In fact days can pass without me reading a book merely because I just can’t choose. Don’t get me wrong, there are over 300 books I have to read and all of them are books I truly want to read, it’s just when it comes to picking one I find it impossible. I sit and stare at them, willing one to put up its metaphorical hand and say “Read me!” but they stubbornly refuse. So as I sit here now, I haven’t read a page today because of the fact I just can’t choose what to read next – do I want a light Chick Lit read? Something a bit heavier? A Jodi Picoult-type novel? Or do I want a young adult book? Or maybe a suspense novel? Or a crime book? The choice is endless, I tell you and most days I don’t know what I fancy.
My life is miles easier when it comes to the books I have to review, because then I read them in conjunction with when I’ll review them so it’s easy peasy to pick up my next read. But when I run out of “must-read” review books I come unstuck. Like today. I have read all the books I must read so I can review them as three others I’m expecting have not arrived. Despite the fact it’s been a good two weeks. Surprisingly enough the lack of a postwo/man in my life also affects what I read because when I know to expect certain books I don’t read anything in the hope the postie will bring me what I expect. No such luck. It’s a total nightmare, yet I keep expecting my books to arrive on time and I don’t know why because they never, ever do. I’m losing hope of receiving those that were sent at the end of January. Stupid postal services.
So, I wish I had a proper system for what to read, I wish I could see what was top of my pile and just read it, but I can’t and I continue to waste many an hour looking for the perfect book to read. It then gets to the point in the day where I then say that it’s too late ‘cos I won’t be reading in the evening and bam there’s a day wasted and I’ll have to wait until tomorrow. But tomorrow the same thing will happen: I won’t know at all what I want to read and I’ll just get frustrated again. I live in hope that one day I’ll manage to find a way to choose my books, but for now, I go back to looking at my lovely bookshelves and waiting for that solitary book to raise its hand.