I’m Sorry Pamela, I Just Can’t Take It Any More.
I’m in complete chaos. I have so many books on the go that it feels like a traffic jam of books and none of them are shifting. There’s a dangerously unstable pile of them on my side table that’s so tall the children can’t get round it to reach the fruit bowl any more. Something drastic needs to be done, or I’ll have scurvy as well as abandoned books on my conscience.
I’m no great fan of poly-reading, but for the purposes of regular book-blogging, it is undoubtedly useful. The problem is I have stacks of books that I started, but have left unread for weeks at a time because I’m not enjoying them as much as others. They sit collecting dust, while I merrily embark on something else. Just the sight of them makes me feel guilty. The main culprit is Samuel Richardson’s ‘Pamela’. I’ve been reading it for months but I’m only just under halfway. Every now and then I’ll read a page or two and write a post about it, but the slow progress is torturing me and I need to get it finished.
So, I’m self-imposing a ban on any reading that isn’t ‘Pamela’ until I’ve turned the final page. It’ll be tough but it needs to be done. Once it’s finished, I know that I’ll feel as light as a feather in a wind tunnel. To be Pam-free will be to experience a very bearable lightness of being. I’ll be able to immerse myself in any fabulous book that I choose – for a day or two, at least. After that, it’ll be time to shift another unfinished hulking tome that’s been gathering dust – yes, ‘Little Dorrit’, I’m looking at you!