April 28, 2014 § 1 Comment
I had about a half hour worth of time to spare yesterday, so I spent it browsing through some other book blogs. I was looking through the list of books they’ve read for the year so far, and I suddenly remembered that I, too, list the books I’ve read by year.
The past few years have been crappy, in terms of how many books I’ve managed to read. This year looks set to be crappy too. I mean, it’s end of April, and I’ve only managed to read two books? That’s one every two months! That can’t be right.
I used to read up to 80 books a year back then. But then again, that was because I just was still studying, or I just graduated, and not yet working. I had expected to be reading much less once I joined the workforce, especially because I wouldn’t have as much access to good books anymore (I was moving back to Malaysia from New Zealand). But I hadn’t expected this.
It’s painful, actually, to see that I don’t even read 10 books a year.
I now work in the publishing industry. It’s great for me, because I’ve always wondered what it would be like. And it’s ironic that even though I work so closely to producing books, I actually have no time to read them. Well, I read the stuff we publish, of course, but because of the nature of this publishing house, we really don’t do that much fiction, if any at all.
My first love has always been for fiction. And I think I’m starting to die a little, metaphorically speaking, because I’m reading so little of it.
I read somewhere once that fiction keeps people humane. Fiction makes its readers that much more compassionate. We read fiction, and we see the world through the narrator’s eyes. We see a different world from what we’re used to. And it makes us more understanding people.
Non-fiction is great. But it’s cold and unfeeling most of the time. It’s fun to read, it’s informative, and it’s great for increasing your knowledge about a given subject. But it hardly moves you. It rarely gives you goosebumps.
This is turning out into a useless rant. I started writing this in the morning, and it’s now nearing dinner time. I can’t even set aside time to write a blog post? Am I really that busy? can I stop making excuses?