Why Not Books?, Ethel C. Taylor (1920), public domain image from Artvee

For the past six months or so, I have found myself wanting to do something different with this blog, yet having only a very vague sense of what that means. I have been creating less in terms of both poetry and collage artwork (although I will have some collage art to share with you later this week, perhaps as soon as tomorrow). I am still practicing quite a bit with my camera, but I am aware that, due to the recent uptick in photography posts, I am running the risk of turning this space into an amateur bird photography blog, which is not what I want.

In short, I’ve been plagued by uncertainty—by a feeling that I am, however unwittingly, moving beyond the limits of what I’ve already accomplished and what was previously important to me in terms of this blog and associated projects—and that uncertainty has left me feeling uninspired, if not entirely divorced from my creativity. All is not lost, however. There are three projects which have been sustaining me during this lackluster period. 1.) I’m learning Italian. 2.) I’m taking an online course in ornithology (Comprehensive Bird Biology via the Cornell Lab’s Bird Academy). 3.) Reading.

And reading has, by far, taken on the greatest importance. All I want to do is read. And read. And read. I’m not certain how many books I’ve read over the past six months (I don’t count.), but it’s a high number, for me, that is. And I am by no means a fast reader. To the contrary. I read slowly and am of the opinion that a good book should be savored like a bottle of fine wine—never rushed or plodded through. I’ve been reading and re-reading literary classics, as well as (my favorite) plenty of detective fiction, both classic and contemporary.

Of course, my love of books is nothing new. Literature has taken up the greater part of my formal education (I have a M. A. Degree in English and American Literature, which I don’t use out in the real world), and yet I find myself surprised that reading seems to have taken on such vital importance for me as of late. And I’ve been asking myself why. Am I looking for some kind of escapism? Is it a fear of change, of a future dominated by AI and electronic texts, that has me taking refuge in physical books? Is it a rejection of contemporary values that’s making me crave stories from a different time and place? Or is it simply the knowledge that there’s an ongoing literacy crisis, as well as a concurrent attention-span crisis and, seemingly, various kinds of mental health issues for which reading can be, at least partially, an antidote?

There is a kernel of a “yes” in my response to most of those questions. But, more importantly, I think my insatiable desire to read presently is showing me the way forward. Indeed, as I am putting together my current reading list, I can’t shake the feeling that I am designing my own curriculum, something akin to a course syllabus. So, I asked myself this morning, “If I were designing a curriculum for myself in order to advance my studies in literature, what would it look like?” The answer was an easy one: I would include a variety of texts from different authors and time periods, but I would focus predominantly on American Modernism with a heavy emphasis on Golden Age detective fiction, mostly (but not exclusively) British and American. Because that is where my primary interests are.

“Why not,” I then asked myself, “give myself permission to move in that direction?” Of course, I am still going to make collage art, write the occasional odd poem, and indulge my bird nerd side here on The Used Life, but why not also write about books? Why not share my thoughts, reviews, recommendations, and reading lists and encourage others, if I can, to read more? It might be fun, and I have to admit, I am excited at the prospect of changing direction. It’s giving me a renewed sense of purpose. After all, what have I got to lose? Why not books?

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Reading List

My current reading list is divided into two smaller lists: general literature and detective fiction. I am trying to keep no more than three books on either list at any given time. Here’s what I have lined up, to be read in no particular order:

Literature (General)	Detective Fiction
Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dostoevsky	Hallowe’en Party, Agatha Christie (I started this one late yesterday. It’s my Halloween read for this year.)
The Decameron, Giovanni Boccaccio (I picked up this volume on a whim in Venice a few weeks ago and am oddly excited about it.)	The Big Sleep, Raymond Chandler
The Sound and the Fury, William Faulkner	Hag’s Nook, John Dickson Carr