Confessions of a Biblioholic Part II

In my pursuit of the book, I have started to put novels into two categories: the yin and the yang. The Masculine and the feminine. The testosterone and the estrogen. Testosterone books like those of Clancy and Child are the worst for binges. They must not, MUST NOT, be put down once they have been started. Our country’s national interest is at stake, lives lie in the precipice and without constant vigilance they might slip off, and be gone forever. They need constant attention.

It is a testosterone book when I am guarding the protagonist, so the he might eat and sleep. I give up my right to do the same. A testosterone book is a book that I must read well after my husband asks me to put the lights out. I draw a scalding-hot bath to keep me company. I move forward, always forward, into the book until the bath is cold; and, I step out, goose-fleshed and shivering into a robe. I curl up on the bathmat to continue reading, hoping not to make any noise - noise that would awaken my husband, who would shake his head, and worry over my addiction. He will remark of the weight that I have lost, the dark circles under my eyes. He will look at me with his eyes so sad and helpless. I feel for his pain - truly, I do, but I am a patriot and right now, my country needs me to remain vigilantly engaged in the book.

Even my children, who come begging for dinner, can recognize the importance, the key and quintessential role I play in keeping these characters alive and moving forward. My kids have learned to fend for themselves during these dark times - eating leftovers, sandwiches, and, if the binge has been long, and I have not dared to leave for the grocery store, then dry cereal found deep within the cabinet. One has to set priorities. My children, I tell myself, are not imperiled by the lack of a hot meal. The time it would take me to cook, serve, and yes maybe even to eat a little myself, surely, would make the difference between survival or demise of a beloved protagonist - and this can not be considered.

The estrogen books are different. They are women. Women who understand the daily repetitive demands of life. They are contented to sit by the side of my bed and wait for me. Their shiny cover, like a stereotypical mother's nagging - “But you never call!” I know they will love me, wait for me - that’s what mothers do. I actually took two months to read The Red Tent. It was particularly understanding book. In it, I found the constancy of daily life, and its demands paralleled mine. This book knew that I would read as I could, little by little, as I tried to preserve my book-sobriety. It was my soul sister. The kind you can see after fifteen-years of no contact and have that magical instant connection. It didn’t need my eyes to continue, it would drudge on doing the chores, taking care of the banality without me - welcoming my visit with no demands. Self-sacrificing.

So one would think that these estrogen books would be a solution - but no. They too have their shadow side. A quick estrogen book of three-hundred pages would hardly take an evening. But some women - as you know - can be very needy. They need to be understood - the nuance, the body language. They are demanding in their own way. They ask to be read over and over and over again, six- seven times maybe, before I can put it down. I am both exhausted and feeling better about our relationship, because I took the time to listen - to really listen until their truth was understood. I think my counselor training helps in this way. I used to be paid to listen. I believe English lit. majors should be required to take classes in talk therapy. I think it helps the characters to cope, having a more empathetic reader.

So, you understand from my descriptions that mine is not a selfish addiction. I am selfless as I give my time and attention to the characters of my current read.