I’m standing, one hip cocked, in a corner of my apartment in front of an old, mismatched pair of build-it-yourself, laminated fiberboard bookshelves, one black, one brown, and I’m flummoxed as to what I should read next.
“You should really get going on Henry VI. That reading goal isn’t going to finish itself,” I condescend.
“Yeah, yeah. But I really want to re-read Splintered!”
“Re-read? Seriously? You’ve set yourself up to read Shakespeare’s complete works by the end of the year, and you want to re-read something you’ve already read?”
“But Henry VI is boring. They’ve already killed Joan of Arc in the first play, and the whole murder conspiracy in the second part is taking for-ever!” I’m beginning to whine…to myself.
“Those were his earlier works. You know it’ll get better. Just stick with it.”
“It might not be so bad if they weren’t all in one, giant book. I can’t even fit it in my purse to carry with me! It’ll take me forever to get through all those plays if I can only read them when I’m at home!”
“Well, if you’re going to read something other than Shakespeare, at least get some value out of it. Don’t re-read. What about Toni Morrison? Or Dave Eggers? You need to give your brain something new.” Somebody’s got to be the voice of reason here, right?
“Ooh! What about Hatchet?” I think excitedly.
“Hatchet? Didn’t you read that when you were, like, ten? What did I just say about re-reading?” I retort bossily.
“Yeah, but I haven’t read it since then. I’ve forgotten the prose. And I don’t remember whether he kills the moose in the first one or the second one.”
“It’s the second one. No. If you insist on procrastinating the Shakespeare thing, that’s up to you. But you really should take a look at all the unread books sitting on these shelves.”
“I really should invest in a third shelf before these give out under all the extra weight,” I’ve successfully distracted myself from Splintered.
“You really should. But where would it fit? Things are so crowded in this corner already.” I’ve also successfully distracted myself from the bossiness.
I look longingly at the beautiful cover art on Splintered.
“Stop it.”
“But I want to read it!” I’m definitely whining now.
I sigh in frustration. “I’m getting really tired of having this argument. Just pick something new, or read Shakespeare. You’re an adult, for God’s sake. Where’s your sense of discipline?”
“But,” I continue to admire the cover art, “look how pretty! And how much did we love Ensnared? Come on, please?”
“Yes, it’s very pretty.” I roll my eyes. I swear, sometimes I wonder if I’m arguing with a child. “Look at the All Souls trilogy. Also very good cover art. And you’ve only read the first book in that series. You’ve finally got the last two, and remember how excited you were that they fit perfectly together on the same shelf? I know how you hate to split up a series.” I shouldn’t have to work this hard to choose a book. It’s not like once I’m reading the book I’ll be paying much attention to the cover art, anyway.
“Okay, you have a point.” I can’t help but spare a glance for the top shelf on the left case, where I keep the books I will love for eternity. Good ol’ J. K. and Jasper Fforde…
“Please stop being so difficult. You know you’re going to wind up reading what I pick for you. Can we just skip to that part?”
“Just a quick reality check, here. We’re the same person. Of course I’m going to wind up reading what you pick. Just like you’ll read whatever I pick.”
“Yes, but I always win, don’t I?” I think with a superior air.
I stare sullenly at the stacks of books in response to my annoying self-congratulation.
“Let’s not argue. Just choose a book and be done with it. You’ve been wanting to research Arthurian legends lately. What about The Once and Future King? Classic literature, romantic story all about knights and a round table, young boy raised as a commoner becomes king of all Britain? You know it sounds good. Come on.”
I know myself so well. I’ve got me right where I want me. Who doesn’t love a good rags-to-riches, much less a classic like King Arthur? I can feel my imagination starting to spin, and I grab the book off the shelf excitedly, in harmony with my mind once again.
I don’t know how the rest of you choose books, but that’s how it usually goes for me. I wish you better luck, and may the page-turners be with you.
Thalia Huntley 