My name is Lisa Steinke and I'm a swinger. A "book" swinger, that is...
I'm ready to face the cold, hard reality that I no longer believe in book monogamy.
I just can't seem to commit to just one novel anymore. I can no longer live in denial as the Jenga-like stack of reads on my nightstand stares me down each night...Each book calling out to me that it should be the one I choose.
I've got saucy books-- Lisa, pick me I have really.. big... WORDS.
Needy books--Lisaaaaa, you haven't held me since last Tuesday....!!!
Arrogant books--Lisa, I'm on the New York Times Best Seller List-- as if this is really a hard decision for you.
But the book I'm going to crawl into bed with is completely dependent upon what kind of mood I'm in. I might need a little romance one night. But the next, I might need a hardback...if you know what I'm sayin' *wink* *wink*
So, that's why I'm currently reading several, er, ten different books.
Yup, I'm seeing ten books at the same time.
But it wasn't always this bad...Really, it wasn't.
In the beginning, it was two, maybe three tops. But before I knew it, I was in double digits...
And now I'm a full-blown book whore.
I read around. I do. I can't help it. I want to be with them all... I'll be in bed with one but I'll be distracted, thinking about the other. It's not that I don't LOVE book "X", it's just that book "Y" is new, exciting, different...
And my whoreyness has never been more evident than while I've been trying to pack for my trip to Maui this week. I haven't been facing the usual packing dilemmas like how many pairs of espadrilles to bring, how many sundresses are absolutely critical or if I really do need aviators and Jacki O's. My true struggle has been deciding which lucky books get to travel with me to a romantic and relaxing vacation in Aloha land.
My instinct is to grab four or five so I can have options, but realistically, I'll probably only read two or three because I plan to be doing *cough* other things with my very human lover.
And although this space issue is a problem a Kindle could easily solve, I just don't think I could whore out with Kindle the way I do with my books. Call me old school, but I'm a gal who needs a little foreplay...who loves to hold and caress her book, to bury her nose deep within its pages and inhale that glorious new book smell. I just don't think I could go all gadgety even if it came down to not having the room for another pair of wedges or needing to forgo that lime green Banana Republic sun hat, even if it was an impulse buy...
So you'd think that knowing I have this problem... Knowing that I'm already juggling ten different stories from ten different books (just keeping all the names straight is a full-time job), that I'd stop adding to my fictional and nonfictional harem. If only it were that simple. If only I had the will power to avoid that place called Barnes & Noble.
I imagine asking a book whore to stay away from Barnes & Noble is like trying to convince an alcoholic to stay away from the bar. Aint .gonna. happen.
So, I pull into the parking lot and tell myself that I am allowed to go inside but I'm not allowed to buy anything. Not even a bookmark. I'll just see what new books are out. No harm in that, right? Just because I'm on a diet doesn't mean I can't look at the menu...
But once I'm inside and all the books are surrounding me-- New fiction, Best Sellers, Recommended Reading, Bargain Bin (actually, I never stop there--even I have limits...)-- I can't help myself.
And before I know it, I'm picking up a book and reading the back cover. Then, the first page.
That's not cheating, right? Books A, B, C, D and E will never have to know. But then...
I. want. it.
I. must. have. it.
I. am. going. to. buy. it.
And as I walk out of the store with my green, plastic bag (I know, I know... I need to go canvas) I vow that I will NOT read the new guy. I'll take him home, put him on my shelf and only after I finish the other books will I even dare crack him open.
But that's never what happens.
I get home and somehow he ends up on my nightstand, staring at me. Begging me to open him. Taunting me with his promises of new and different protagonists and exciting plot twists.
Until finally, I cave.
And that's exactly what happened after my most recent "browsing" excursion to B&N. Even though I obviously had plenty of books to take with me to Kaanapali, I couldn't resist the urge to see what else was out there.
And as I exited with Laura Dave’s, London is the Best City in America (hey, I didn’t have it in paperback & after devouring The Divorce Party, I decided I have a total writer crush on her!), Cathy Yardley’s, Turning Japanese (it sounds so fun!), Alison Pace’s, City Dog (one of the narrators of the book is the dog-- how clever is that?!) and *throat clear* Candy Spelling's, Candyland (c'mon, who isn’t curious about that mansion?), I tried not to feel guilty for being unfaithful to the books faithfully waiting for me at home.
So which books made it into my brand spankin' new Tory Burch beach bag?
A true book whore never reads and tells...
Although please let me know if you come across any books that could help with my disorder. Anything along the lines of…
Book Whores Are People Too!
Don’t Turn That Page! An Addicts Guide To Faithfully Reading
Confessions of a Book Swinger: How One Just Wasn’t Enough...