Over the past year, my friend (and fellow philosophy teacher) Stacey did something rather remarkable. I'm going to let her tell her story . . . but, before she begins, I have some rather remarkable commentary about her story (of course I do). I've conveniently put my words in vivid red, so if you want to skip them, you can proceed directly to Stacey's post. But you'd be missing out on some interesting context (and, not only that, you'd be missing out on all my thoughts and feelings, which-- if you've made your way to this corner of the internet-- you find either incredibly fascinating or so annoying that you can't stop reading them).
When Stacey started this project I was worried. Worried that she threw out the proverbial baby with the proverbial bathwater. I use the word "proverbial" here so readers unfamiliar with the idiom do not call DYFS and report Stacey for infanticide.
The "proverbial baby" Stacey tossed out of her life has more than a passing resemblance to an actual baby. It's immature, needs support in getting established, and possesses great potential. And it has a cute name. Podcast. Stacey threw out listening to podcasts, the nascent audio format that's still toddling around the media-milieu with an adorably anachronistic name. This freaked me out, because Stacey and I have both bonded with a number of different podcasts. It seemed kind of cold-blooded of her to cut ties completely with the art form (especially since we make one of our own). This would be like Steven Spielberg deciding not to watch movies (which might be the case, judging by how old the movies are that inspired him).
I'll let Stacey explain the specific ins and outs of why she quit this fledgling media cold turkey, but her general reason was so she could read more books. Now I'm all for reading books, but I don't like these kinds of arbitrarily strict deontological rules. I prefer case-by-case utilitarian ethics. The "deon" in deontological is Greek for duty, and Stacey decided it was her duty as an English teacher and an intellectual to change her ways. But I don't think you should completely quit something with as much potential value as podcasts. The right number of podcasts to listen to isn't zero. The right number is of podcasts to listen to is difficult to determine, but the golden mean, the amount of podcasts you can enjoy while still finding time to read, is probably somewhere around two per day. That seems reasonable. I wrote a long and winding post about the difficulties with this kind of Aristotelean morality and I do concede that it's easier to make a categorical rule if you want to get things done, but a good podcast is better than a bad book. I explained all this to Stacey, but she stuck to her principled guns.
I had other reasons for worrying about Stacey's project, some of them altruistic and some of them selfish. In all sincerity, I wanted Stacey to enjoy the new season of Serial. I wanted her to listen to two fantastic takes on human memory, one of them dead serious serious (Revisionist History "Free Brian Williams") and the other absurd and funny (Heavyweight "#16 Rob"). I wanted her to enjoy the weirdness of Benjamin Walker's Theory of Everything "Victory is Ours." But she would not bite. She was determined and focused.
Slightly more selfish was the fact that I wanted to be able to kill time at work discussing these podcasts with Stacey. I'd recommend them and she'd tell me "Not yet. I want to finish strong . . . December 2nd." I'd tell her she was nuts, that life is too short for hard and fast rules, and she shouldn't deny herself the pleasure, but there was no talking to her.
I was also worried that she might be reading a bunch of crap, just to amass a huge list of books. Loads of Jojo Moyes and Liane Moriarty and Nicholas Sparks. Chick-lit and cheese. This was rather stupid and sexist of me, it turns out.
My greatest anxiety was a selfish one. I was worried that she would read more books than me. I average forty-some books a year, a number I'm quite proud of. I always post the list, and I'm always impressed with myself (which isn't difficult . . . I set the bar low). It turns out I didn't need to worry about this. It wasn't even close. Stacey read so many books that I'll never count how many books I read in a year again. Because I'll never live up to her list, so why bother to count? It's not a contest anyway. Right? And the point of this blog is to slow down . . . so perhaps with my shorter list, I'm winning the contest.
I'd also like to clear up what might be a misconception: if you think Stacey was doing some sort of analogue back-to-basics return to reading on paper from books checked out from the library, you'd be dead wrong. She spent a shitload of money on this project-- that's how she rolls. She checked zero books out of the library. She bought zero hardcovers with which to adorn her shelves. Instead, she purchased the Kindle version of each book and the discounted Audible version as well, so she blew through books in an efficient digital combination; she read for about an hour or so each day on her phone, and then when her eyes got tired or she was driving or getting ready for school or working out, she listened to the audio version. High tech.
Stacey's Story of Her Badass Book list (In Her Own Words)
Every year around this time, I try to reflect on my life. I evaluate my strengths and weaknesses and think about the type of life I want to lea
My father and I had a conversation once about how New Year’s resolutions are always so strict and limiting. They force you to place unnecessary rules and restrictions on your life. These resolutions tell you what you can’t do and seldom leave room for any fun. We both agreed we were sick of resolutions telling us “don’t drink soda,” “don’t eat sweets,” “don’t watch as much tv” and the worst: “don’t drink beer.”
We decided that, from that point on, we would make our resolutions positive. For a full year we resolved that we would curse more — much to the chagrin of my mother. Whenever I called, my dad would bellow: “How the fuck are you?!”
Cursing more was fun. It was funny. It was easy. At the end of the year, we wished each other a “happy fucking New Year,” and I set to work picking another positive resolution.
Last year, I realized I was wasting an inordinate amount of time listening to podcasts hosted by self-congratulatory comedians boasting about the importance of their work. Of course, there would be an episode of Serial or Waking Up With Sam Harris thrown into the mix, but overall, I was not listening to anything of real academic merit. The etymology of the dick joke could not be considered high brow media consumption. Clearly, this was not a valuable use of my time.
My resolution became clear: I wanted to read more. Anytime I would normally spend idly listening to a podcast - I would instead pick up a book
I started December 1st (I am never ready to make big life changes on the 1st of January). I find I can keep my resolutions if I have a month to ease into them, but it didn't matter for this one. I did not “ease” into this resolution. In December of 2017 I read eight books. This quickly turned my resolution into a challenge. I wanted to see how many books I could read in one year. I didn’t think I could maintain the pace of two books a week while still working full time - but I wanted to see what I was capable of.
Any time one of my friends mentioned a book they were reading, I immediately added it to my list. I scoured the New York Times and Washington Posts “Best Books of the Year.” I joined Goodreads at some point in this venture (I can’t believe it took me this long). If a book was highly rated - I was going to read it.
I did not select books based on how long they were (even though Dave would like to believe I did). Maybe next year I will do that, so I can double my list — but that doesn’t sound very appealing.
As this year draws to a close, I can say that my resolution was a success. I am incredibly proud of myself for what I have accomplished. I’ve read more this year than I have in probably the past six or seven years combined.
I have not yet decided my next resolution - if you have a suggestion, I am open... As 2018 draws to a close, I can truly say “this was a good fuckin’ year.”
(Editors note: Dave has bolded all the books he has read, and therefore approves of. Thirty of them! So many good ones, but number 80 is my favorite book I read this year).
2018 Books:
1. Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders
2. Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie
3. Behind Closed Doors by BA Paris
4. The Power by Naomi Alderman
5. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
6. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou
7. Ready Player One by Ernest Cline
8. The Relic Master by Christopher Buckley
9. The Outline by Rachel Cusk
10. Little Fires Everywhere by Celest Ng
11. Lab Girl by Hope Jahren
12. What Made Maddy Run by Kate Fagan
13. Atonement by Ian McEwen
14. Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman
15. Hillbilly Elegy by J.D Vance.
16. Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut
17. Tenth of December by George Saunders
18. Heroes of the Frontier by Dave Eggers
19. American Gods by Neil Gaiman
20. Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut
21. Bear Town by Fredrik Backman
22. My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry by Fredrik Backman
23. White Houses by Amy Bloom
24. Zeitoun by Dave Eggers
25. Cemetery John by Robert Zorn
26. The Breakdown by BA Paris
27. The Identicals by Elin Hilderbrand
28. Less by Andrew Sean Greer
29. The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson
30. This Is How You Lose Her by Junot Diaz
31. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
32. Lathe of Heaven by Ursula LeGuin
33. Before We Were Yours by Lisa Wingate
34. An American Marriage by Tayari Jones
35. I’ll Be Gone In The Dark by Michelle McNamara
36. Surprise Me by Sophie Kinsella
37. Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jasmine Ward
38. Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
39. The Woman in The Window by AJ Finn
40. Drown by Junot Diaz
41. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
42. Artemis by Andy Weir
43. Something in the Water by Catherine Steadman
44. Then She Was Gone by Lisa Jewell
45. Calypso by David Sedaris
46. Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman
47. A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay
48. The Word is Murder by Anthony Horowitz
49. The Wife Between Us by Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen
50. Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell
51. The Last Mrs. Parrish by Liv Constantine
52. The Hating Game by Sally Thorne
53. All The Missing Girls by Megan Miranda
54. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer
55. Station Eleven by Emily St John Mandel
56. The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah
57. The Couple Next Door by Shari Lapena
58. The Alice Network by Kate Quinn
59. The Fault in Our Stars by John Green
60. A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles
61. Ask The Dust by John Fante
62. Lamb by Christopher Moore
63. Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows by Balli Kaur Jaswal
64. Fates and Furies by Lauren Groff
65. Dear Committee Members by Julie Schumacher
66. American Pastoral by Philip Roth
67. The Shakespeare Requirement by Julie Schumacher
68. Straight Man by Richard Russo
69. Where the Crawdad Sings by Delia Owen
70. Warlight by Michael Ondaatje
71. The Rules of Magic by Alice Hoffman
72. The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas
73. This Is How It Always Is by Laurie Frankel
74. Be Frank With Me by Julia Claiborne Johnson
75. Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt
76. Florida by Lauren Groff
77. The Other Woman by Sandie Jones
78. Between The World And Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates
79. The Coddling of the American Mind by Greg Lukianoff and Jonathan Haidt
80. Boom Town by Sam Anderson
