Glutton for Books

I'll end up in Hell one day, probably after I'm dead, and I'll be faced with the my sins. I'm not terribly worried about the big ten, I try to limit my murdering and thieving and I've never quite taken to adultery*. (I wonder if God winces as much as people do when I vomit truth?)  The seven deadly sins I may have issue with.

But today we'll discuss just one of my failings, gluttony. I've mentioned the chocolate and coffee in the past but today we're going to discuss a gluttony of something other than comestibles. I am a consumer of culture and when I take culture into material goods I stick with books and movie-films (is it a movie or a film? depends I'd say, hence the Borat-esque combination). After I was burgled for the second time my junior year of college my movie-film consumption has taken a hit. Books, on the other had, I am still in need of a twelve-step program.

I love books, and I read everything, except the nonfiction books that make my mom a feminist and my sister want to work for child protective services. I'm not one of those people who picks up and book and must finish it, I will buy books that sit on the shelf until five feet of snow falls and the TV just becomes an annoyance, then struggle through the book like its a job rather than a pleasure. I don't consider myself well read though because I tend to stick to what I know and like. Though I love to brag about how many books on the BBC's reading list (I don't know its official title but its on facebook in many places) and the number of books on the ALA banned books list I've read (PRIDE).

I'm on this thing right now where I look for books that will help me but not self-help, that's a waste of time. I go for fiction, seeing as it is "a lie that tells the truth," for my rescue. I actually stumbled upon the most fitting and amusing book the other day while being indulgent in target. The book is called Hector and the Search for Happiness by Francois Lelord. It is French and of my favorite authors my only other French author is Martin Page, luckily for me Penguin seems to be publishing English translations of these author's books for me and me alone.

A book is much easier to pay for than an actual psychiatrist. And books about people who may or may not be normal being happy with themselves is a better for me than some over paid person bored with my fear of rejection (I think I'm going to reread Martin Page's  The Discreet Pleasures of Rejection next) and disgust with my current situation. I don't want pills I want peaceful sleep and people to stop telling me to "buck up, things are bound to change" and instead be proud of my accomplishments.

I know, as an English major I should be more in tuned with the classic literature but as much as I love Pride and Prejudice there is no Mr. Darcy coming to sweep me off my feet and carry me home to the lap of luxury where I will want for nothing. It's a nice sentiment but I have to live in the real world. I feel more connected in postmodernism and post-9/11 (if it's an actually genre I don't know but it should be because there is a definite shift in literature- I know I'll teach it at some University!)

Books, I have boxes of them. Some are awesome, some are a waste of the paper they were printed on and some I'll give away as Christmas gifts (I'm all for a good purge of material goods). I need a sponsor, I need a custodian, I need someone to handle my book finances. I should be a library, though funny enough I abuse the local public library, I wish it had more though.

Also, if you want to trade I'll be happy to, or I'll just take from you and give away later, that's usually how it works until I have something worth handing off.

*Did you know adultery has and e in it? I just discovered this, which means not only have I been spelling it wrong for years, I've been saying it wrong. (And you thought I was going to blab a juicy confession, silly you!)