So many books, so little time. Frank Zappa
Summer, fall, winter, spring, the season makes no difference: I read daily year round. If anything, more in the winter, when short days, long nights and weather help push back the world’s demands.
When asked why he kept his home stocked floor to ceiling with cases of liquor, W.C. Fields said, “Once, during Prohibition, I was forced to live for days on nothing but food and water.” Substitute books for booze, and you’ve got me.
But I have it better than Fields. Because a drink— no matter how good— is used up once drunk.
While a book, if it’s great, just begins to dish up its treats on first read. Alas, great books are rare; that’s why they’re great. I hoard those, not to collect, but to re-read, again and again and again.
Which do I love more, the first read, or a re-read? Are they comparable? Does it even matter? There’s so much to love about reading.