So I got it in my head this year, that I would set myself the goal of reading 90 books. It’s roughly two books a week, and once upon a time I read three to four books a week. Three to four weighty tombs in fact. One to two books a week felt like a walk in the park. A pleasant walk in the park, in fact. A walk in the park where I wouldn’t need suffer the bloviated pontification of insufferable philosophers (unless of course I want to read the bloviated pontification of insufferable philosophers), or the incomprehensible triple/quadruple negatives of one Aristotle (no worries here, I will never voluntarily read Aristotle).
The thing I didn’t take into account? It’s no longer my “job” to read three to four books a week. In fact my Job eats up around 50 hours a week of my time, leaving not so much time left for the reading. Therefore, I’ve named this venture …
The Grand Idiocy!
What prompted this flight of fancy? This delving into the abyss of miss-laid ambition? Did I purchase a time turner at some out of the way, funky pawn shop? Trade in my duct-taped together Mazda Protege for a circa 80’s DeLorean? Nope! I joined a book club. An online book club. Through Goodreads…it’s a thing.
See they have these challenges…monthly and yearly. This year’s challenge? To become a serial killer. At first thinking this meant crime drama, I felt in no way tempted to join when I innocently opened the link in You’ll Love This One’s discussion forum. Them bastards are quiet tricksy and much more cleaverer than I gave them credit for. This challenge only deals in mystery and crime if you want it to. No, it’s a challenge that lets you go through, and close the loop on all those book series you’ve been reading, or thinking about reading, or never knew you wanted to read until you saw someone else’s book series.
Sitting down with pen, paper, computer, bookshelves, and various Amazon and Barnes and Noble “wish lists”, I came up with 23 series I wanted to complete (but really start), which I’m estimating at around 90 or so books. As you read your books, you progress through levels, based on an elaborate points system (not really elaborate, unless you’re reading it hung over one Sunday morning). To complete a level you need 100 points and have disemboweled at least one series.
Well, my friends, last night I completed my first level! Yep, at 105 points, I am an official serial killer (I’m sure my mom always knew I had it in me).
The following titles were the first manuscripts I massacred (pronounced mass-a-creed ™Arlo Guthrie):
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy six book series (this included the sacrilegious 6th book written by most definitely not Douglas Adams – moment of silence).
And rounding out my points: I Am Number Four; The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making; and Anne of Green Gables.
A summary of my thoughts and feelings on the books of level one is forth coming.
Tonight…it’s enough for me to stand here and proclaim:
Now, if you’ll excuse me? I’m going to my room, where you will find me reading Dune Messiah. G’night.