Tonight I discussed my book addiction with Alison. She wisely assured me that this is a healthy, wonderful addiction, and nothing to be ashamed of. The thing that I am ashamed of is the number of unread books that I have. Here is a photograph of some of the books that are sitting around the house currently, waiting for me to read them. Even as I type this, I see two books on a side table that escaped the photograph. There is no telling how many more books are hiding on shelves, in stacks on the floor, in closets, etc., that should be included in this collection. These books come from libraries (I have library privileges at not one but two libraries - a sure sign of a book addict), my own purchases, gifts from friends, loans from friends. Thirty-seven books begging for my attention, all of which have appeared in only the last three to four months. And I'm leaving out the library books that I have checked out and returned without reading - probably at least a dozen in the last two months. Books on evolutionary biology, spirituality, birds, race, etymology, and writing; books of literary fiction, southern fiction, short fiction. Perchance I should blog less and read more.
I'll take responsibility for five of the books I see in you pile.
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