I could blame the Librarian. Her sunless face. That dress off the Madewell mannequin. I wasn’t even at her station. Eavesdropping is what it was.
“Do you think you’ll hit 100?”
Not even a smile. Just her smartest kid in the back of the class eyes looking right through me. Like my 74 books wasn’t enough.
I had accepted the library’s Adult Reading Challenge of completing 52 books in 2024. A book a week. A good goal. And you get a bookbag. At least the gal at my desk offered the prize with a decent smile. A nice quality canvas with a thick stitch double handle. Country white with apple red accents and lettering.
No Shelf Control.
A catchy catch phrase. Last year was blue. I’m All Booked Up. The bags are funded by the Virginia Beach Library Foundation and the Friends of the Virginia Beach Library.
I was at the Kempsville Library, one of many within the Virginia Beach Library system. The bag was for completing my Adult Reading Challenge, partnered with the Beanstack App. You scan your reads and the App creates a nifty digital log as you go. The App is linked to My library ID, so the Specialist confirming my accomplishment didn’t need my phone. It pulled up on her computer and she spoke the number with gentle confirmation. And that’s when the librarian spent her two cents.
M got me started with the Beanstack thing in the middle of ’23. I only did the 24-book challenge, but still managed 42 in the stack before the calendar flipped. This year I was all in. I accept this as a pure act of consumption. A need becoming want. I want the bookbag. And damn some of the spell checks, because bookbag is one word. And one purpose. Not a tote. A tote is for market greens, odds and ends, collecting backseat debris before going through the carwash. A bookbag has one purpose.
I didn't stop scanning, but I stopped counting once the little App Badge lit up as completed. It was early October when I realized I should stop at a desk for my spoils. I was happy with my bag. Happy to be reading again. But the clean canvas wasn’t yet in my grasp when she said it. Just like that. One Hundred. I did the math. I had 26 books to go. Twelve weeks.
“I don’t know. I’ve never counted my books before.” My voice calm. Matching her Dewey decimal droll. I spoke the truth.
I’m a reader. Have always been a reader. If you’re a reader, I don’t need to explain. If you’re not a reader, I can’t explain.
I still own the first book I owned. Still have the book my fourth-grade teacher gave me when she knew I lost some books when our house burned half down. “Keep the joy and peace of reading. Always.” I still run my finger over her front-page cursive.
There is yoga and meditation. The trails and the treadmills. The gym and the yard chores. I drink green smoothies, bake real bread, but my main health comes from reading. Without reading I’d be dead. Most likely. And that was literal in that cold winter in the Hotel Honda. I didn’t just go to the library to get warm. I went to read.
Without there is an ache. The length of days noticeable.
This year I followed the backyard sunlight and the seasons. Risked dew soak in the spring dawns. A summer smear of mosquito demise. The crease of a corner from gloved fingers turning pages in autumn and winter afternoons. I stopped looking at my phone before bed. I cut my time with the television in half. Instead, I read.
By October’s end I let it go. The counting. I just kept doing what I was doing. If I want to read more, I’ll read more. The number of more doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m reading again.
A former book hoarder, I’m now committed to the idea that it’s important to keep them moving. I use the libraries. Plural. In multiple townships. In two cities. My latest obsession is scrounging stacks for first novels. An author’s debut. Wow. Way better than the stuff on the front caps at the shops but that’s another blog. I donate purchased titles back to the library thrifts, or to the used bookstores. Because there are no old books. Only books. Of course I buy from the Indie shops, but the big boxes are okay, because my neighbors have jobs there. Jobs with books.
I’m excited to start a new reading challenge for 2025. And yes, I did reach one hundred books in 2024. Just scanned number 107. No, I didn’t tell the librarian.
I’m just telling you. But remember, the number doesn’t matter.
Or maybe it does.
As a culture, we read less and less. An average person in my county reads 12 a year. But some statistics report as few as four.
Whatever your number is, read a few more for 2025. And maybe join a reading challenge. And maybe get a nifty bookbag. And use the nifty bookbag for more books.
1. Cover photo by Author.
2. The day of the bookbag at the Kempsville Library, Virginia Beach. Photo by Author.
3. A few of the many highlights from 2024.
4. The 2024 Adult Reading Challenge bookbag, with the 2023 prize. Photo by Author.
© Copyright William Hazel, 2024
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