For the Love of Books

I cannot over-emphasize how important books have been in my life.  They have probably been the one thing that has remained constant in my life for the longest time.  Even my love of nature and wild things has not been important to me for as long a time.  Nearly as long as I can remember (and certainly ever since I began school), I have loved books and reading.  I dreamed of becoming a writer myself as early as grade one.

It is not only the reading of books that I love - I also love looking at books neatly lined up on shelves, organizing books, carrying books around, smelling the scent of their pages, making lists of books that I want to read, and simply being around books.

I recently saw this list of questions about books and reading at Sophie's blog, For love and idleness (which she got from Tammy at Daisy Yellow):

1. What is on your reading list for 2010?
2. Do you keep track of the books you read?
3. How many books (fiction + non-fiction) do you read each year?
4. Has the number of books per year increased or decreased over the last 5 years?
5. Do you read more than one book at once?
6. Do you read more fiction or non-fiction?

I don't usually take ideas directly from other people's blogs this way, but I couldn't resist the chance to talk about my favourite obsession.

1. What is on your reading list for 2010?
Depends what I happen to find at used bookstores and library discard sales, and what I feel like re-reading.  Books that are currently on the "to read" shelf include Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy, Night and Day by Virginia Woolf, Rocannon's World by Ursula K. Le Guin, Villette by Charlotte Brontë, and The Unicorn by Nancy Hathaway (the last 3 will be re-reads).  I don't usually plan what I'm going to read for longer than a month ahead of time.

2. Do you keep track of the books you read?
Yes, I began this in December 2008, by writing the title of each book that I read as I finish it in a notebook, organized by month and year.  This makes it easy to count the number of books I read each month, and for the whole year.  I also have LibraryThing (with which I am totally obsessed), which is mainly for organizing my entire library, but also for keeping track of the books that I have lined up to read and that I am currently reading.

3. How many books (fiction + non-fiction) do you read each year?
Last year I read 156 books, of which 70 (45%) were non-fiction, and the rest fiction.  I suspect that I read more books than usual last year as I read 35 books just in May, which was probably a record for me.  Probably the average is closer to 100 books per year.

4. Has the number of books per year increased or decreased over the last 5 years?
Hard to tell, since it is only during the last year that I have begun keeping data on this, but I suspect it has increased.

5. Do you read more than one book at once?
Sometimes.  I commonly read one fiction book and one non-fiction book at the same time.  Very rarely do I read more than one fiction book at once (unless one happens to be a book of short stories), but I will read multiple non-fiction books together.  To see what I'm reading now, check out the "Currently Reading" section in the sidebar.

6. Do you read more fiction or non-fiction?
Judging from last year's data (45% non-fiction), I think I read about equal amounts of both (with perhaps a bit more fiction).  The amount of non-fiction that I read has certainly increased over the last few years, although I probably still own more fiction.

So what about you?  What are your reading habits?  What books are you currently reading?

Change

"Something has changed," I mused to myself as I travelled back home from British Columbia's south coast last weekend, after a two-night-long field trip.

I had left two days before, on Friday, at the end of a busy week of studying and exams.  My last exam had finished literally minutes before we were scheduled to leave.  What a relief it was to leave the campus and the city for the weekend, knowing the following week was a holiday and would involve relaxing walks at home rather than tiresome hours in my tiny dorm room, staring at index cards.

By coincidence, the first day of the field trip was also the opening day of the Vancouver Olympics, which were in the same general area that I would be visiting.  But that was no problem.  Not only were we far enough away from the main centres, but also the place where we were staying for the two nights did not have television access, ensuring the the weekend would be free of distractions from the outside world.

So two nights passed, with the daytime hours spent traipsing through the forest, in the rain and the mist.  It is so different there - sagebrush, bunchgrass, and ponderosa pines are replaced with majestic redcedars and Douglas-firs, moss growing on every possible surface, and a lush undergrowth of ferns.  And everything is so wet.

Although I enjoyed myself very much, nothing particularly notable happened on the field trip.  On Sunday, as we were heading home, I felt tired and happy.  Even joyful.  But something had changed.  As I watched the view out of the van window, half sleeping, I fancied that a door had been opened that could not be closed.  I thought of all that I had been trying to do with my religious practice and it didn't feel real.  It just felt like so much posturing.

Something has changed.  Perhaps it is just the coming spring.  Yet I remain hopeful that perhaps it is something more.  For the first time since I have been at university, I feel as though I may really be becoming friends with someone.  My family is living in a different place.  And, for the first time in a while, I am actually looking forward to going back to classes tomorrow rather than facing it with dread.

And as I step outside into the frosty air tomorrow, the words I may say are, "Come, change.  I welcome you.  I am not afraid."

The Lonely Land

It was difficult to choose a poem to post for Imbolc, for the 5th Annual Cyberspace Poetry Slam for Brigid, but I eventually settled on this one, by Canadian poet A.J.M. Smith.

"The Lonely Land" - A.J.M. Smith

Cedar and jagged fir
uplift sharp barbs
against the grey
and cloud-piled sky;
and in the bay
blown spume and windrift
and thin, bitter spray
snap
at the whirling sky;
and the pine trees
lean one way.

A wild duck calls
to her mate,
and the ragged
and passionate tones
stagger and fall,
and recover,
and stagger and fall,
on these stones -
are lost
in the lapping of water
on smooth, flat stones.

This is a beauty
of dissonance,
this resonance
of stony strand,
this smoky cry
curled over a black pine
like a broken
and wind-battered branch
when the wind
bends the tops of the pines
and curdles the sky
from the north.

This is the beauty
of strength
broken by strength
and still strong.


Read last year's poem here.

Like what you read?  Please visit my new blog: At the Edge of the Ordinary.

Thoughts and Musings on Imbolc

For once, Imbolc actually feels like the beginning of spring.  Where I live, Imbolc usually falls in the depths of winter, snow usually covers the ground, and I am usually walking quickly from building to building, wrapped in my warm winter jacket, trying not to slip on the ice.  But this year there is no snow and temperatures have been warmer than normal, even - dare I say it? - spring-like.  There are no snowdrops blooming outside - at least not yet.

Inside, I have pink and yellow primroses in a plastic pot sitting on my windowsill, brightening up the otherwise dull view: grey parking lots, bare grey branches, grey hills, grey river, grey sky.

I am busy these days - too busy to really celebrate Imbolc.  I have four midterm exams, one quiz, and one assignment due next week, and my to-do list is threatening to overflow its page.  And at the same time I'm still trying to meditate, to exercise, to write in my journal, to work on my daily practice (and I have to admit that I did none of these things today except write in my journal so I could study for yet another exam).

I am almost too busy to listen to Brighid, to hear her telling me to keep working, that the sun will still rise every morning and each day will still have only twenty-four hours, that this busy time will pass, whether I accomplish everything I need to do or not.  I am almost too busy to listen for the birds and watch the clouds drifting by as I walk from class to class.  I am almost too busy to sit down here and write a half-hearted blog post when all I want to do is go to sleep.  Almost.

Continue on.  Do not despair.  Spring is near.  Relief will come.  That is the lesson I need to learn at this Imbolc.

Happy Imbolc to you, wherever you are.