12/6/2012: In these monthly essays that Hornby wrote for The Believer in 2003-4, he sets up a wonderful structure. He begins each essay with two lists: Books bought that month, and books read that month. He then launches into a musing, meandering essay, talking in and out of when and why he bought those books (following a lead from another book read or bought; fear that his brand new baby would keep him from ever buying a book again; being in the Los Angeles airport) and then why he read what he read, weaving all of this plus his considered reviews into a seamless narrative. (With some asides about The Polysyllabic Spree, his name for the editors of The Believer--perhaps the most hilarious part!)

I love the way he does all of this. I love that he confesses fully that he knows he'll never be able to read all the books he buys. I love that he integrates the description of his reading life with his thoughts about what he reads. I love his humility and his self-identification as a reader, not as a critic or even reviewer. He's just having the same thoughts and insights as any other informed and thoughtful reader! (And while I know this is not true, holding on to the illusion makes me want to read his reviews more than those of more erudite--read pompous--critics.) I love his easy tone and accessible sense of humor--just the sense that he loves doing exactly this: reading and writing about what he reads. Because yes, I want to do that too! And I wish I could do it as well as he does.

Luckily for me there are two more collections of these essays. And in the New Year I hope to try using this structure myself. It's a great way to keep track of all kinds of things, as well as a good exercise. Nice to have such a great model!

Ich liebe bekanntermaßen die Bücher, die Nick Hornby übers Lesen schreibt und dieses hier ist keine Ausnahme. Aber im Gegensatz zu seinen beiden Vorgängern habe ich mich dieses Mal dazu entschlossen, nicht alle Bücher lesen zu wollen, die er in seinem Buch erwähnt. Denn das werden immer Mamutlisten für die ich Jahre brauche und ich eigentlich die Bücher nicht mehr so lange auf meiner Leseliste stehen lassen (das "eigentlich" sagt aber auch, dass das eher ein Wunsch ist als die Realität ;)

Gleich am Anfang erklärt Nick Hornby, dass er es zwar nett findet, wenn man sein Buch liest, aber ihn bitte nicht kritisieren soll, wenn einem die vorgestellten Titel oder seine Art, darüber zu schreiben, nicht gefallen. Dann legt er direkt mit dem Vergleich zwischen John McEnroe und Holden Caulfield los, schwärmt von seinem Schwager und Fußball (wobei er da sehr kritisch ist, was die Bücher zu dem Thema angeht), gibt zu, dass er bei anderen Lesern spioniert, was sie gerade lesen und dass auch bei ihm Bücher zu Büchern führen.

Er sagt, dass er in einem Monat nicht alle gekauften Bücher gelistet hat, weil er sich wegen deren Anzahl geschämt hat. Die Geburt seines Sohns hat in ihm die Angst geweckt, zu verblöden und deshalb hat er noch mehr Bücher als früher gekauft. Außer zum Thema Autismus, denn als Betroffener wollte er nicht noch darüber lesen (mit wenigen Ausnahmen, die er sehr positiv bewertet hat).

"Mein Leben als Leser" hat die hohen Erwartungen, die ich an das Buch gestellt habe, nicht enttäuscht. Allerdings war auch die Angst berechtigt, dass meine Leseliste deswegen explodieren wird

Hornby's book wasn't just a great book about reading; it was also hilarious. I think if I met him in the pub for a pint I'd very much like him. He reads a lot of stuff that I do, aside from all the football reading, granted. And I don't quite share his lack of love for literary novels. However, who else would write, "So tell your kids not to smoke, but it's only fair to warn them of the downside, too: that they will therefore never get the chance to offer the greatest living writer in America [Kurt Vonnegat] a light."

This book has led to several more books. Nick Hornby read a biography of Richard Yates and that combined with my recent viewing of Revolutionary Road convinced me to buy The Easter Parade. Anne Tyler's Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant apparently was the book that inspired Hornby to write and I managed to find a $3 copy. Hornby described Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson as an "extraordinary, yearning mystical work about the dead and how they haunt the living" and combined with numerous recommendations, I could no longer resist.

Favourite Hornby quotes:

"I'm never going to complain about receiving free early copies of books, because quite clearly there's nothing to complain about, but it does introduce a rogue element into one's otherwise carefully plotted reading schedule... Being a reader is sort of like being president, except reading involves few state dinners, usually. You have this agenda you want to get through, but you get distracted by life events, e.g., books arriving in the mail/World War III, and you are temporarily deflected from your chosen path."

Yes! This is why I stress out each time I have to make a decision about what to read next - because it's a big, presidential kind of decision.

"Shortly after the birth of a son, I panic that I will never be able to visit a bookstore again, and that therefore any opportunity I have to buy printed matter should be exploited immediately... I was in a newsagent's, and I saw a small selection of best-selling paperbacks. There wasn't an awful lot there that I wanted, to be honest; but because of the consumer fear, something had to be bought, right there and then, just in case... Never mind that, as regular readers of this column know, I have over the last several months bought several hundred books I haven't yet read. And never mind that, as it turned out, I found myself passing a bookshop the very next day, and the day after that... I didn't know for sure I'd ever go in a bookshop again; and if I never went to a bookshop again, how long were those several hundred books going to last me? Nine or ten years at the most. No, I needed that copy of Prayers for Rain, just to be on the safe side."

I buy books like I'm purchasing them for the coming apocalypse, where all hell will break loose and as such my access to books will be restricted by the total collapse of society. In airports, I buy as if I'm about to end up like Tom Hanks, stuck on an island by myself. Sufficient reading material on hand is key.

He quotes Gabriel Zaid, "the truly cultured are capable of owning thousands of unread books without losing their composure or their desire for more."

Someone needs to tell my ex that counting up my unread books, which occupied the bookshelves and every single window ledge in the house barr the kitchen (didn't want them smelling of garlic, though regardless they all have some slightly odd sun bleaching patterns as a result of our lack of shelf space in Scotland), would merely prove that I was very cultured, rather than somewhat obsessive and a poor at budgeting.

"But as I was finding a home for them in the Arts and Lit non-fiction section (I personally find that for domestic purposes, the Trivial Pursuit system works better than Dewey), I suddenly had a little epiphany: all the books we own, both read and unread, are the fullest expression of self we have at our disposal. My music is me, too, of course - but as I only really like rock and roll and its mutations, huge chunks of me - my rarely examined operatic streak, for example - are unrepresented in my CD collection. And I don't have the wall space or the money for all the art I would want, and my house is a shabby mess... But with each passing year, and with each whimsical purchase, our libraries become more and more able to articulate who we are, whether we read the books or not."

With music gone iPod, the only way to judge people will soon be by their bookshelves. I can't be the only person who displays an unhealthy interest in the books of my friends, family, and acquaintances - and yes, I do judge you for that copy of He's Just Not that Into You (though I have to admit to having read it and wanting to see how the hell they made it into a movie.)

"There are now nine people in the world who have walked on the moon, and unless something dramatic happens (and I'm talking about a governmental rethink rather than a cure for death), it won't be too long until there are none. That might not mean anything to a lot of you, because you are, I am lead to understand, young people, and the moonwalks didn't happen in your lifetime. (How can you be old enough to read the Believer and not old enough to have seen Neil Armstrong live? What's happening to the world?) But it means a lot to me, and Andrew Smith, and when the Apollo missions, the future as we understood it, become history, then something will be lost from our psyches. But what do you care? Oh, go back to your hip-hop and your computer games and your promiscuity. (Or your virginity. I forget which one your generation is into at the moment.)"

This is absolutely the best telling off I've ever received in any medium. It also makes me think of my dad, who I really think should read this book. That's a telling statement, by the way - I only want to recommend interesting, thought-provoking books to my dad. Whether or not his actual taste has any correspondence with what I think he might like remains to be seen, as we've never discussed any of the books I've sent him (and he may well never have read them either.) That doesn't seem to be the point, somehow. I suppose the books I send to my father say far more about me than they do about him.

fun, quick read that readers will relate to... also a great place for other book recommendations.

Polysyllabic Spree is a collection of Nick Hornby's columns from The Believer in 2003-2004, and the vast majority of them are colorful and humorous, even if I didn't find many books to add to my reading list. At the end of the day, perhaps it's that I'd rather read the books myself than read someone else's impressions of them.

Ah, a book about books! I even enjoyed reading about the books I have no interest in. Hornby really knows his way around a book review. If more reviewers followed his lead, reading might become and olympic sport.

Instant favorite.

“Zaid’s finest moment, however, comes in his second paragraph, when he says that ‘the truly cultured are capable of owning thousands of unread books without losing their composure or their desire for more.’
That’s me! and you, probably! That’s us! ‘Thousands of unread books’! ‘Truly cultured!’ Look at this month’s list: Chekhov’s letters, Amis’s letters, Dylan Thomas’s letters... What are the chances of getting through that lot? I’ve started on the Chekhov, but the Amis and the Dylan Thomas have been put straight into their permanent home on the shelves, rather than onto any sort of temporary pending pile” ... “I suddenly had a little epiphany: All the books we own, both read and unread, are the fullest expression of self we have at our disposal. My music is me, too, of course–but as I only really like rock and roll and its mutations, huge chunks of me–my rarely examined operatic streak, for example–are i represented in my CD collection. And I don’t have the wall space or money for all the art I would want, and my house is a shabby mess, ruined by children...But with each passing year, and with each whimsical purchase, our libraries become more and more able to articulate who we are, whether we read the books or not. Maybe that’s not worth the thirty-odd quid I blew on those collections of letters, admittedly, but it’s got to be worth something, right?”

“I don’t reread books very often; I’m too conscious of both my ignorance and my mortality.”

Nick Hornby begins his book with the month of Sept 2003, listing on the left the 10 books he acquired that month (a few Salingers, a couple of biographies, some poetry), and the 4 books he read that month (the Salingers and one from a TBR pile).
And then he tells us, "So this is supposed to about the how, and when, and why, and what of reading--about the way that, when reading is going well, one book leads to another and to another, a paper trail of theme and meaning; and how, when it's going badly, when books don't stick or take, when your mood and the mood of the book are fighting like cats, you'd rather do anything but attempt the next paragraph, or reread the last one for the tenth time."
Well, this kind of book is tailor-made for Goodreads fans. In a way, Goodreads is a polysyllabic spree too.

"All the books we own, both read and unread, are the fullest expression of self we have at our disposal…But with each passing year, and with each whimsical purchase, our libraries become more and more able to articulate who we are, whether we read the books or not.”
I would add that not only do our libraries articulate who we are, they also articulate who we want to be.

On quoting Gabriel Zaid, “the truly cultured are capable of owning thousands of unread books without losing their composure or their desire for more.” , he enthuses "That’s me! And you, probably! That’s us!"
Yes! it is me! Hi! (nerdy Horshack wave) Thanks for giving me again even more titles for my TBR pile, Nick! ( So Many Books: Reading and Publishing in an Age of Abundance )

This inaugural volume is the second one I've read in this series (the first was the last one of the series, More Baths, Less Talking) and it's just as good.

I don't want to imply that people shouldn't read a book for the sake of being entertained, because this (and presumably most everything written by the great Nick Nornby) is more entertaining than my sorry rating would suggest, but there is simply no meat on these bones. The book is a compilation of magazine articles Hornby wrote for a British rag 8 years ago. He simply tells you what he read that month. As a compilation, I suspect this book is worth less than it would be in serial over a year. Sure, I was compelled to jot a few books down, but that feeling can be satisfied by Googling "best of" lists for 10 minutes, or attending a cocktail party. I happened to be trapped on a boat with this book, so I went through it dutifully, despite feeling as if I were somehow wasting 70 seconds for every minute I spent reading.

Lately I've been over critical of my life. I mean, what normal person spends so much time reading and obsessing over book lists and planning their book purchases? But then I read Nick Hornby's The Polysyllabic Spree. Within it's 143 pages, I found all the self-justification I could ever want, because Hornby shares my love of literature. In a series of essays written for a literary magazine, the author begins by sharing a list of books he's purchased that month and then goes on to list and discuss the books he actually read that month.

It's much like sitting down for coffee with a good friend, a kindred book spirit, and listening to him critique the books he's read, justify the books he hasn't, and all the while making you laugh out loud, nodding while saying "Yes! I feel the same way!"

I commiserated with his frustration at not remembering books he's read, and at falsely remembering books he thought he read but actually hadn't. When he talked about his four hundred plus books sitting on his shelves still unread, I envisioned my own packed bookshelves, spilling out onto makeshift bookshelves (okay, I won't buy another book that I haven't room for...but ooh, this book is available on the Kindle today for the great price of only $1.99! Never mind that I prefer physical books...)

But I love books and I love reading. It's who I am, and as Nick Hornby said: "all the books we own, both read and unread, are the fullest expression of self we have at our disposal." I now feel somewhat justified at my book-buying habits, because it's how I express myself - it's my art, and thanks to Hornby, I can embrace it.

I love seeing what Nornby bought vs. what he read, and his reviews, awesome.

I have never read a Nick Hornby book before now. I always meant to, but other things got in the way, in fact I think I have a copy of High Fidelity somewhere. I was missing out on a soul mate.

This is a small book, recounting a bit more than a year of his column where he logs what books he buys, which he reads, and then a wandering muse about those he did read, those he didn't, books from his past, books from the world's past and the general state of being head over heels in love with reading.

Some of his passages were so wonderful, I marked the pages with random things I had near me, something I haven't done since the long gone study nights in college. By the time I was done, it was bulging with coffee stir sticks, parking receipts and various other social dandruff.

Nick gets it, he gets why books may be the absolute best thing the human race has produced. We had almost no overlap in our reading lists, but I still devoured every word. There was one period where I misplaced the book, only to find it later near my bookcases. I looked at it sitting there in front of my Buffy/Lovecraft shelf and I swear he was grinning at me, as if to say, "It's okay to love all your books, even the schlock. I don't judge."

I will buy this book and someday I will find him and have him sign it for me.