Last year was an abominable year for reading. Sadly, I only pulled off one whole book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which I finished in a day and a half. Very good for Harry. Very bad for me and my Reading Ego.
So, it is with great jubilation and pride that I announce my return to the book wagon with the reading of The Man in My Basement, by Walter Mosley. I haven't finished as of yet, but I'm almost half way through it...having just begun today. Its the first book by a black author that I've read in a long while, the last one being the Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman, by Ernest J. Gaines. As a black guy, I suppose its expected of me to read more books by black authors, but I just don't get into them. To be honest, I don't truly identify with the usual themes of racial struggle in mostly white settings.
I grew up in a mostly white town, and had mostly white friends, some of which tossed around the "n-word" with a casual "you-know-I'm-just-joking" way. Sometimes it was funny, other times it stung. But such was life, and I dealt with it. But this book doesn't really play on the "race" angle, and I think that's what's drawn me into it.
At any rate, it feels really good to be back on my reading game. I'm one of those creatures that keeps track of all the books I read in year, and I compare notes on the previous years, like some sort of autistic bibliophile. Scary. In 2007 I only managed to trudge through 1 book, but in 2006 I had 9, and in '05 there were 18...yet '04 only saw 3. So, every couple of years I get into a reading slump, which I absolutely hate. Although, is it really a slump if I'm still reading, just not whole books? I mean, I still get lots of Blog reading in, as well as news and magazines. Just not books. I'm sure the book police will fine me if I'm in violation.
Well, here's to a new year full of finished books with lots of new literary friends to cherish!
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