How many books I’m reading at a time is a moving target. Over the past few years I’m guessing it’s usually been one, but occasionally two or three. I’ve recently embarked on a somewhat different approach based on where I do my reading.
I read virtually every weeknight in our family room and/or in bed, a task made much easier by how rarely I watch television. If I have time, I will also squeeze in 10-30 minutes in the morning after reading the paper. Since reading the paper doesn’t take too long any more, I get to read more often than not. Weekends, of course, are where and when I want.
In part due to the length of some of the nonfiction I’ve read this year and am contemplating, it seems I am far more attentive to nonfiction in the morning. As a result, I’ve instituted a loose genre divider. I read nonfiction in the morning and fiction at night. It works out fairly well as I can leave the nonfiction books in the room in which I read them.
This may lead to nonfiction getting shorted a bit because I don’t spend as much time reading in the morning. But this does enable me to more easily divide my attention between two books. And, from a morbid standpoint, I’m on the downhill slide of how much time I have left to read books. I’m going to grab as much time as I can.
A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one.
George R.R. Martin, A Dance with Dragons
