To read a whole
book in a day is one
of the great joys – and luxuries –
of this modern life.
For me, first it was
Garfield and Footrot Flats.
Then it was those adventure books
by Willard Price.
Probably after that there was something
else – maybe a Barry Crump book if
I’m remembering correctly.
And then Stephen King.
(The only Dean Koontz book
I read in one day was Demon Seed,
one of his best).
I read a lot of Stephen King books
and as they got bigger it was hard to
read them in one gulp – but that didn’t
stop me trying…and I think the best effort
was probably getting through Needful Things
(which if I’m remembering correctly is about
700 pages long) in two days.
Charles Bukowski entered my life
with a bang. And when I took his Run With
The Hunted collection home with me from the
best book store in the land I collapsed down on
my single student bed and only put the book down
to change CDs while I read – and read – and read…
It’s such a luxury – and a treat – and a thrill
to get to sit and read. And read.
And I don’t get to do it as often these days. Or at
least my attention is stretched, the fucking internet
and life on the side and dipping in and out of far
too many books of course – they are dotted around
several rooms in the house like opened tabs…
But knocking one off – a single book in a single
day – is still one of the very best rushes, one of the
very best things
It’s such an achievement.
My folks would so often look at me like I’d failed
them – for reading.
And to me they’d failed for not reading at all.
That’s at the centre of everything for us. Still.
And we can’t turn the page.