One week to go. I will have read and blogged a book every day for a year. A crazy idea–even an avid reader can’t give a good book its due in such a mad dash. There have been days when the necessity to read and blog a book saved me. There were even more days when I thought it would kill me.
No magic was disturbed, activated or experienced in the reading of these books. Life handed out no bonbons, in fact, it was a brutal year in a relentless economic depression that remains a giant, ongoing soul-suck. Some days I spent so much time scraping the bowl of client and web content writing to cover the rent that I was up until dawn finishing my book and typing who-knows-what into this blog. Some days I gnashed my teeth at bad writing, amateur plotting, teeny-teeny type, irritating characters or fiction-fails between book covers. Some days I gratefully slipped into a good book and lost myself in another world.
I thought some highly-regarded novels were dreck and some well-done genre novels were divine. I loved most of the children’s books and some of the YA. I did not become enlightened. But I read a lot of books. Still reading. I wish I had time to tackle some fat, fabulous epics for the last leg. Alas, I’m still grabbing whatever the library gives up and plowing through it after the day’s demands are met. Or not exactly met. In-between scanning and scribbling, I’m going to try to sort out what I got from this book-a-day year and sum up whatever I discover on the 15th. The day after I close the cover of the last book, note it here, and hand-select a few uncracked classics to peruse at my leisure.