Day 302: Books by the Number

I always hope to read 52 books per year, but I don’t seem to reach that goal very often. In 2020, for example, I only read 40 books. Perhaps it’s time to think about why I keep falling short.

A couple of days ago I finished reading my first book of 2021 (Tuesday Mooney Talks to Ghosts by Kate Racculia). I enjoyed it and read it fairly quickly, but still it took me 9 or 10 days to finish. At that pace I can expect to read between 36 and 41 books per year. Other books might take longer than Tuesday Mooney did. Nonfiction, for example, tends to go slower. Mystery, romance, and children’s books go much faster. Since I read a mix, I’m probably going to average out to 36-41 books. I should just accept it and adjust my expectations accordingly. So, this year I’m going to aim to read 40 books instead of 52.

However, if I really want to read more books per year, there are two obvious ways to increase the number. One would be to read less nonfiction and more mystery, romance, and children’s books. That would be almost like cheating, though, don’t you think?

The other way would be to read more pages per day, but how many pages would that be? The answer to that question may lie in a theory I saw passed around on Twitter recently. The theory is that you read as many books per year as you read pages per day. Therefore, if you wanted to read 52 books per year, you would need to read 52 pages per day.

On the surface this theory sounds too good to be true, but mathematically it would work out if the average book length were roughly 365 pages. Is it? I don’t know. More accurately, for the theory to hold true for me, the average length of the books that I read over the course of the year would have to be near 365.

That’s certainly possible. The average page count for my three most recent books is 379. Long books would raise the average some, while short ones would pull it down. It could ultimately settle near 365. I’ll keep this theory in mind as I read in 2021.

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Day 300: Looks Good

My 2019 photo album arrived today. It looks good. I don’t know why I put off finishing it for so long, but I’m happy now that it’s done. I should go finish up the 2020 album while I’m in a positive frame of mind.

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Day 298: What January’s Good For

I don’t believe in making New Year’s resolutions, because I don’t think that January 1st is a good day to start new habits. Like most people I am naturally drawn to beginnings of time frames for making changes in my life. The beginnings of years, months, and weeks all feel like good starting dates. In practice, they are the exact opposite. They are the worst times for new starts.

One problem with those special dates is that they’re always future dates. Setting a future start date is just a form of procrastination. It is a way of postponing the new thing, of putting it off until that golden someday when it will finally feel good to get started. But it rarely feels good to get started even on those special days, which is why it’s pointless to wait. And the longer I put the change off, the more likely I am to keep putting it off. Whatever is holding me back–fear, laziness, anticipation of discomfort–best to face it now, head-on.

Another problem is that starting on a special date tends to put me in an all-or-nothing mindset. If the goal is to change from that date on, then to fail on any one day afterward is to fail forever, or at least until the next special starting date. Once I’ve had the inevitable first lapse, I start to think, “I’ve already failed. Why continue to try?” But a lapse does not mean failure. It just means I have to try harder on the next day.

So, I know that if I want to make changes in my life, the day to start is today. If that day happens to be January 1, so be it, but I would never deliberately pick that day, because the symbolism might put me into the dangerous all-or-nothing mindset. Also, I know to expect some lapses and to aim for overall improvement rather than perfect performance. This much I have finally learned in life. My 40-odd Januarys have been good for something, at least.

But January is not just the beginning of the new year. It also marks the end of the old year. And while it may not be a good time for resolutions, it is a convenient place to chop off a year-sized piece of the past and take a close look at it. So I will not write a post about New Year’s resolutions, but I will probably write a few more posts about 2020 and its lessons. The old year may be done with me, but I am not finished with it quite yet.

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Day 297: An Axolotl Lives Here

When Marshall is not using his wearable axalotl blanket he drapes it over the sofa, and now it’s like we have this giant cheerful axolotl living in our living room.
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Day 296: Message for 2021

“I want to put a ding in the fabric of the universe.”

P.S. In case you were wondering about the origin of this message, it was written on a small piece of seashell from a Rhode Island beach by a Rhode Island craftsperson. It came from a bag of random seashell messages that I purchased at a local craft fair (Ah, craft fairs. Remember those?). I posted this picture of it today because today is the day it reappeared upon my desk. I wish I could recall the names of the couple who sold it to me, because my husband and I chatted with them for a bit, and I instinctively liked both of them. I would not only like to buy more of their seashell messages, but also to chat again sometime.

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2020’s Most Memorable Reads

Here is a list of the five most memorable books I read in 2020. Two were rereads. Three were new to me.

Doctor Dolittle’s Circus by Hugh Lofting, A-: I had forgotten why I loved the Dr. Dolittle series so much as a child. This book reminded me, and I will reread more of the series soon.

The Lie Tree by Frances Hardinge, A: The premise in this book is that there is a tree that will give you knowledge if you feed it a lie. The bigger the lie, the bigger the payoff in knowledge, but the cost is high. First you must spread that lie to the rest of the world, with potentially harmful consequences.

The main character of the story is Faith Sunderly, a teenager whose family moves to a remote island so that her father, a clergyman and noted scientist, can join an archaeological dig there. That’s what she’s told, anyway, but the truth is much more complicated and dangerous. When her father turns up dead, the islanders treat it as a suicide, but she believes he was murdered. The tree may offer clues to his murder and enable her to take revenge, but first she must tell terrible lies.

I don’t normally resort to using other people’s or organization’s reviews, but this one sums up my feelings about the book so neatly that I decided to make an exception this time:

“Mystery, magic, religion, and feminism swirl together in Hardinge’s latest [2016] heady concoction… Hardinge creates a fierce, unlikable heroine navigating a rapidly changing world and does it all with consummate skill and pitch-perfect prose, drawing readers into Faith’s world and onto her side and ultimately saying quite a lot about the world. Thematically rich, stylistically impressive, absolutely unforgettable.” (Kirkus)

Parable of the Sower by Octavia E. Butler, A: So many people had talked up Butler’s writing to me, I was nervous to finally read one of her books, because I was afraid it might disappoint. I shouldn’t have worried. It was everything I was promised it would be, and now all of Butler’s other novels, including the sequel to this one, are on my reading list.

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke, A: This is a peculiar book about a man, called Piranesi, who lives in a seemingly endless palace of statue-filled rooms that’s surrounded by the sea and often flooded by tides. No explanation is initially given for who he is, why he lives in such a strange place, or why he is alone except for one other person who mysteriously comes and goes according to their own secret agenda. The answers are doled out slowly and carefully, and the reward for the patient reader is to vicariously dwell in a place of eerie tranquility and innocence for a while. I can’t say that it has a happy ending, or that it doesn’t go to some dark places, but I feel as though I captured enough of that tranquility and innocence to carry me through to the end of the book and beyond.

The Tombs of Atuan by Ursula K. Le Guin, A: As a young child Tenar was taken from her home and transformed into Arha, the Eaten One, high priestess of a fading but still powerful religion. As she grows to adulthood, she spends her days in service to the Powers of the Earth, death, and learning the pathways of an underground labyrinth where no light is allowed. One day a thief invades her domain and teaches her about the outside world, and she must decide if she really wants to spend her entire life in darkness.

This book, now that I think about it, is similar to Paranesi in that the main character lives in virtual isolation without a full understanding of why. And like Piranesi (which this book predates by many decades), it’s a slow story that requires patience from the reader. Its ending may or may not be construed as happy, depending on one’s mindset. I find it liberating and vaguely hopeful while at the same time painfully uncertain and frustrating. Or, to put it another way, it’s emotionally complicated, which is perhaps part of why the book is usually sold as YA fiction and so successful in that category (I first read it as a teenager myself). BTW, though The Tombs of Atuan is technically the second in Le Guin’s Earthsea series, it can stand on its own, so there’s no need to read the others in the series unless you want to.

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Day 295: Album

I spent most of my day working on my 2020 photo album. I’ve made many albums over the years, so it’s a familiar task, but each album presents its own special difficulties and requires its own unique solutions. This one is problematic because there’s so much text that could be included (I wrote a blog post for nearly every day of the year), but how much of it do I want to use? And how do I cut out the parts I don’t want without damaging the continuity? There’s also a dearth of photos during spring and summer, which is a much more serious problem. I’ll find a way to work around the problems. I always do. I don’t expect that the solutions will come quickly or easily, though. I know better.

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Forgotten Pictures of 2020

While working on my 2020 photo album, I found some photos that I thought might be fun to share.

Reindeer Down
Did Staggy already know in February what the rest of the year would be like?
Silly Shampoo
“Feel your skin smile” has got to be the silliest thing ever written on shampoo bottle (Suave Essentials Mango Mandarin).
Ant Farming Aphids
I’d heard that ants farmed aphids. That sounded like something that only exotic ants in faraway lands would do, so I never really expected to see it, but here is an ant farming aphids on a maple-leaved viburnum in my very own yard.
Little Billy Explains 2020
Husband Explains Tin Foil Hats

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Day 294: The Farce is Far from Over

I couldn’t help laughing with a grim sort of humor when I read this paragraph in an article from The Atlantic today.

In 2019, the Global Health Security Index used 85 indicators to assess how ready every country was for a pandemic. The U.S. had the highest score of all 195 nations, a verdict that seems laughable just one year later. Indeed, six months into this pandemic, the index’s scores had almost no correlation with countries’ actual death rates. If anything, it seems to have indexed hubris more than preparedness.

from “Where Year Two of the Pandemic Will Take Us” by Ed Yong

To be an American today, you need to have a good sense of humor. We’re living in a farce. If you can’t laugh at it, it will drive you mad.

It also helps to have a strong capacity for forgetting. That same magazine article began with an explanation of how the flu pandemic of 1918 was quickly forgotten by the people of that era. It ended with speculation about how quickly we would forget about this pandemic.

If my recent experience is anything to go by, it will be fast. Last night, as the newscasters were rehashing the big news stories of the year, I was stunned by how many terrible things had happened in 2020. I’d already pushed my memories of those events as far from my surface thoughts as possible. They were upsetting and there were too many of them to handle at once. My memory having been jogged, I realized that they were still there in my head, exactly where I’d piled them up, but I’d left no tracks leading away from them, no clues to follow, no reasons to ever go back there and rummage through them. I will forget them as soon as I’m allowed to, and that’s just as well. The farce is far from over.

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Day 293: Year’s End

On this last day of the year, I worked on some tasks from my to-do list, and even finished (finally!) the large version of the 2019 photo album. I told my inner perfectionist to be quiet as I hit the order button, and within the hour I had discovered more photos and some text that probably should have gone into the album. This surprised me not at all, and I chose not to be upset by it.

In the evening I watched a sad movie (“The Midnight Sky”). Then I went downstairs to be with my family and together we watched a TV broadcast of performers singing in a mostly empty Times Square. The emptiness struck me as sad but appropriately symbolic for the year. The ball dropped. We drank a toast to the new year. The children went to bed and I soon followed. It wasn’t much of a celebration, but there wasn’t much to celebrate about 2020.

Good-bye, 2020. You sucked.

Hello, 2021. We have high hopes for you. Please don’t let us down.

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