On Tuesday, June 21st, I apparently finished my hundredth book since I began recording the same just over a year ago. Of course, this is only a seeming fact, for multiple reasons. Imprimus, this “100 books” total includes comics and graphic novels, which cannot really have the same literary ‘weight’ (not to say ‘mass’) as other texts. Secondus, the earliest books read — according to my database of same — only have rough estimates of when they were completed, and I suspect they were finished perhaps as much as a month earlier than the approximate 6/17/2015 date given. Tertius, and perhaps most telling, whilst the unexamined life is deemed to be unworthy of living, the micromanaged and databased life may only be a debasing of the actual substance of life itself.
Perhaps more to come, perhaps after I can lay claim to one hundred actual books not bound with staples.
*Forgot to mention the particular book which ticked over the counter; ’twas Rumpole of the Bailey, the well-known mystery book by John Mortimer. The stories are somber, if not actually despondent.
Leave a comment