I read cover-to-cover 20-25 books a year (came up a bit short last year at 18) and probably another volume worth of pages in short stories, essays, articles, etc, and if I liked a book I used to keep it indefinitely; I've been a bit less obsessive about that the last couple of years, though, with novel-length works.
My basement has nine bookcases, all crammed to overflowing, along with a couple of chairs and a desk and an old lamp stand piled with books. I honestly can't say how many books there are down there, but the majority are unread and when bought were bought with good intentions. A few things fed into this: While I've been concentrating lately on fantasy/horror/mystery, I go through streaks of reading s.f. and mainstream and often have high hopes of delving into some non-fiction, so ... geez, that looks interesting ... and that's fascinating ... huh, I wonder about this one, what a premise ...
And ... there's a theory that most people have a 3rd space, a place they go that isn't home and isn't work, where they go to relieve stress and wipe the day's (week's, month's) issues from their minds for a time. Bookstores have been that place for me. Add to that working at a WaldenBooks part-time for a few years where a good chunk of my paycheck went into books, especially the bargain books, two large displays of which were discards from their other stores. (Among other things I found,
Partial Eclipse a collection by Graham Joyce and
The Red of His Shadow by Mayra Montero which were terrific reads).
And in spite of bouts of weeding and discarding, I still have books I bought in the 1970s (for instance,
Great Tales of Terror and the Supernatural, which was I believe my first brand new hardcover purchase at the appallingly high price of $6.95).
So, 100? Really?
Amateur.
Randy M.
