Library Slut

I have this problem. I own many, many books. This isn't a new problem or a problem I haven't spoken of before publicly, or one that isn't apparent upon entering our house. This isn't the worst problem in the world. In fact, one might argue that this isn't a problem at all. It's a luxury. Books are treasures. Books are educational and mesmerizing. Books are our friends. But books also take up a lot of space.The abundance of those we've already read fill the shelves in our office and our basement. Weighing down the white particle board bookshelf built to sustain our library, hanging on our purple office walls. Books not alphabetized but loosely categorized. Stacks of fiction, the teeny and combined self help/religion section, the enormous art section with volume after glossy colorful volume leaning against the next, vying for our attention, the Anne Rice/Diana Gabaldon guilty pleasure shelf tucked up next to what I like to call the "lyrical historical prostitute" section, then poetry, classics and stage plays. It's full in there with the travel books and the biographies and instructional photography tomes all edging and competing for space.

But the real problem, the one I feel actual guilt about, are the books that have yet to be read. We have a bit of an abusive relationship here. And it's my fault. I buy these new books with the best of intentions. Carefully chosen, carried around stores while I make serious decisions about which lucky ones come home with me. I stack these books along the wall and fill the skinny tall cabinet in the corner of our bedroom with their intriguing jacket liners all in a row. They are festooned with vivid images and carefully crafted plot summaries that won my heart and attention. There are more than eighty lined up waiting for me, and that's just my side of the bedroom. And then I ignore them. That's where the abuse comes in. I hear about a new book from a friend or on NPR or from one of the seeming thousand articles/reviews I stumble across online. And I get distracted from my own hand picked collection of waiting books. The latest thing grabs me. I'm like a crow, fixated on a silver candy wrapper blowing around on the ground below. Distracted and giddy with the shiny, unfamiliar newness. And that's why I'm a library slut.

I am fickle. I ignore the delightful and varied collection of books I have waiting for me devotedly at home. And I go to the library. I cheat on my own books. And often. So much so lately, that of the eight books I've read in the last few weeks, seven were from the library, one from my mother-in-law and a grand total of zero from those stacked, waiting their turn in my bedroom. You say books don't have feelings? You say why feel guilty? They are just books, inanimate dusty bound paper. Oh, but they aren't. They waiting for me. They are waiting for their story to be passed on to the next reader, devoured and absorbed into part of that reader's life, and passed on to the next person, or waiting to be re-read and re-enjoyed all over again. I might take this whole thing a bit too seriously. I feel like I'm letting these books down, betraying them. My purchase was a promise to read them and give them my time and thought. And here I go running out to the library, for a quick and commitment free fix with these new seductive charmers. But I can't seem to stop myself. So here's what I've been reading lately. And I own not a one of them.

The Red Scarf by Kate Furnivall- Loved this book. It was set in Russia right after the revolution, 1917 through the 1920's, and follows the story of two female friends who are forced into one of Stalin's many labor camps. The stronger of the two friends escapes from the camp and makes a daring attempt to secure help from some family friends, all the while hiding from Stalin's communist spies and militant villagers. The book turns a bit magical and required some suspended disbelief but the powerful friendships, fierce loyalty, political intrigue, and final happy ending made this a great, fast and chilly read, it is set in Russia after all. I wanted to drink icy cold vodka while reading, I refrained.

These two Anita Blake Vampire Hunter by Laurel K. Hamilton ( her book jacket cover is so grown up goth I love it) books came out in the 1990's. They are super popular, she's written nearly twenty books in the series. I love Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles and read every one of them, even the later mediocre ones, I was mildly amused by the Sookie Stackhouse/True Blood books, I read three, so I expected to love Anita Blake, but these just were ok. The writing is casual and consistent and fast paced. Anita, the main character and vampire hunter/reanimator, is likable and tough. But they just didn't grab me. They are light beach reads, filled with vampires, zombies, and various other supernatural baddies and beasties that are constantly attacking the perfectly capable but fool hardy Anita. They amuse, but I don't have the urgent desire to read the rest of the series. Maybe I'm just vampire jaded. I blame Anne Rice and her sexy, ruffle shirt wearing undead. They won me in high school and never let go.

I love Neil Gaiman. Good Omens, written with Terry Pratchett was one of the funniest books I've read in years. And Anansi Boys was unique and funny, beautiful and scary all in one. No one else writes quite like Gaiman. It's like reading a graphic novel without the graphics, but the way Gaiman carefully chooses words makes the story intensely visual. American Gods rambled and tripped around, much like the main character, Shadow, road tripping with a variety of has been Gods in a variety of beat up cars all over the US, waiting for the impending battle of the old gods versus the new gods. Yes, those sentences were confusing weren't they? I felt confused and lost in parts of this book too, not because I couldn't understand what was happening (this isn't a difficult book) but the vast amounts of ancient religious mythology and the extensive number of little interwoven stories, the magic and otherworldly nature of much of the plots, and the whole theme of the book could be a bit numbing. I just let myself get swept along for the ride. It was a weighty, cunning, violent and comedic adventure. And part of the story was set at The House on the Rock, what better place for defunct gods to meet than that bizarre, nightmare of a rich old man, recast as a tourist attraction. I'm fascinated by that strange place.

Sarah's Key by Tatiana deRosnay- This book made me cry. Repeatedly. First off, since 6th grade when Mr. Ben Edelbaum, a survivor of the Holocaust, came to our middle school to read from his book Growing Up in the Holocaust, I have wanted to learn all that I could about World War II and the Holocaust in particular. It haunts and captivates and humbles me. There are endless books on this subject. But the books that resonate for me are the one's that tell small personal stories, particularly from the points of view of peoples we weren't taught much about in school. Sarah's Key is set in France both in the 1940's during the Nazi occupation and French collusion and during present day Paris. The story is powerful, terrifying and unthinkable. I don't want to say much more. Just read it.

I read these two books based on a recommendation from one of the professors in my Fundraising Certificate classes at UMKC. I loved Robin Hood Marketing. This book is user friendly, laid out in such a way that I could take copious notes on each chapter, capture the key topics on the first and last pages and really come away feeling like I had learned a lot within about an hour and a half. I'll probably buy this book and refer to it repeatedly, especially if I'm running my own nonprofit someday, but its due back to the library. Now I need to process the information and advice for myself and figure out the best way to pass it on to my clients. So good.

Momentum was ok. I feel like I've read so much about social media already, attended seminars and workshops on the topic, since it seems that everyone is a social media expert these days. But the author made some interesting points about activism and how social media has really placed so many free and simple tools in the hands of grassroots organizations, that we as people with a cause, have more power now than at any point in history. I did like The Cluetrain Manifesto that Fine referenced as one of sources in the end of the book. Four men compiled this 95 point manifesto, determining ways that corporations need to readjust their marketing and client engagement mentality in light of all the web 2.0 technology. Though it did make me think of Jerry Maguire's mission statement a bit. Both books were interesting. I just took more away from Robin Hood. Momentum was more theory and less practical application.

So up next on my reading list, one of the seven library books I still have, a couple of young adult novels, and my re-reading of Jane Eyre and Little Women, two of the first books that I remember being a little obsessed with as a girl. As a woman, and having just seen a trailer for the new Jane Eyre movie that made me giddy, I'm wondering what I'll get out of them at 35 in comparison to my reaction as a ten year old. Well now, there's a blog post topic right there.

Now you tell me, what are you reading? Got any recommendations for my constantly growing, never shrinking list?

All images courtesy of Amazon, with links back to Amazon. I make no money from these, I just love Amazon.