As much as I spend time writing, I try to keep my nose buried in books as often as possible, too. Keep the literary gears turning, keep reminding yourself of what you’ve yet to accomplish, keep getting under the covers with voices much bigger than your own, etc. You know.
Tonight, I finished my first reading of Justin Taylor’s Everything Here is the Best Thing Ever. And usually when I close the cover on a book, I take a second to think about what I’ve consumed, and head back to my bookshelf to replace the title alphabetically. Tonight, I couldn’t stop thinking. Since I started Taylor’s work, I haven’t been able to stop thinking, actually. The book is finished, but it’s not on my shelf. It’s still right next to me.
I never really figured out “how to read”—never was particularly good at it—but because I’m used to living almost exclusively from the heart, I’ve found pedantic analysis skills aren’t the primary ones needed for the books whose footprints have endured.
Right now, finally, temporarily, again, we are everything to each other.
M
