Re-Reading Books

As much as I love literature – reading it, exploring it, getting lost in it, pondering it, picking it apart, writing it, writing about it, talking about it, collecting it, etc. – there’s one thing about me that might surprise you:

It’s actually pretty rare for me to re-read novels.

For sure it happens. There’s a list of books I’ve read more than once, and there’s another list of books I imagine I’ll read again at some point in the future. But I have to admit: both of those lists are much smaller than you might expect.

The novel I’ve read the most amount of times is Looking for Alaska by John Green (which I’ve read four times so far, and suspect highly that I’ll read again). There were various reasons I’ve read it each time, but it truly is a fantastic, 5-star book, without a doubt.

Then there are other books which I completely adored, about which I could rave almost endlessly, but which I’ve only read once and, frankly, will probably never read again.

Sometimes this is for practical reasons. I totally dug Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norell by Susana Clark. It was a highly enjoyable – and often very humorous – read, with incredibly intricate characters. But it’s about 1,100 pages long. I can read three new books in the time it would take to tread the same ground again. Why would I spend all that time reading something I already know?

Sometimes books put too much weight on the ending (such as I explained in my review of The Devotion of Suspect X). It’s not exactly like you can be surprised a second time, when you “find out” who the killer is (again). Once is enough.

Sometimes this is because I don’t want to ruin the impact of the book. The Crossing by Cormac McCarthy is my favorite novel so far this year (and one of only two 5-star ratings I’ve given so far this year). I worry, though, that it may not feel quite as majestic if I pick it up again. I’d rather not risk tarnishing my impression of it.

More than anything, though, I’m simply always hunting for new experiences. I don’t want to feel like I’m “going backwards.” Finishing a book tends to make me feel productive – a feeling which is highly important to me – and re-reading books just don’t leave me feeling that way, at least not as much.

I’ll tell you about a few books I’ve re-read, though. Especially considering how rare it is for me to re-read a book, I suppose that could mean that there’s something particularly special about these books. I’ll let you decide…

• Looking for Alaska by John Green – Read four times, and will probably read again.
• Dracula by Bram Stoker – Read three times, and will probably read again. (Possibly soon, in fact – it's been awhile since I last read it, and I’m starting to feel the itch…)
• Bad Monkeys by Matt Ruff – Read twice; will probably NOT read again.
• The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom – Can’t remember if I’ve read it two or three times; probably won’t read it again (but it’s more likely I’ll read this again than Bad Monkeys).
• Asylum for Nightface – Read two or three times, and will almost inevitably read again.

A few books I’ve only read once so far, but I’m looking forward to reading again:

• Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
• This Census Taker by China Mieville
• Genesis by Bernard Beckett
• That Hideous Strength by C.S. Lewis
• Momo by Michael Ende (which I really should read again, especially considering it's one of my very favorite books ever)

A few books I read once and especially liked (4+ rating), but will probably not read again:

• The Crossing by Cormac McCarthy (5)
• Blindness by Jose Saramago (4.5)
• Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norell by Susana Clark (4.5)
• The Prague Cemetery by Umberto Eco (4)
• The Last Samurai by Helen Dewitt (4) (No, this is not at all related to the Tom Cruise movie, and yes, I was fully aware of that before I read it.)

What are your thoughts on this, friends? 

Do you have any books that fit into one of these categories? 

Are there any books that you’ve read countless times? 

Let us know!

Tsundoku (As Categorized by Italo Calvino)

It's an art, I think. Tsundoku, that is. It's the Japanese term for acquiring a large collection of books but not actually reading them. (Leave it to Japanese to have a word for everything. Just another way in which English is sorely lacking.)

I've gone through phases in my life when I've been good about this. And I've gone through phases when I've been bad about this. Of course, the real question is, which phase is which?

Italo Calvino explored this idea incredibly well in the first chapter of his book If on a winter's night a traveler (which you - yes you - should absolutely read if you haven't).

I'll let him take it from here:

In the shop window you have promptly identified the cover with the title you were looking for. Following this visual trail, you have forced your way through the shop past the thick barricade of Books You Haven't Read, which were frowning at you from the tables and shelves, trying to cow you. But you must never allow yourself to be awed, that among them there extend for acres and acres the Books You Needn't Read, the Books Made For Purposes Other Than Reading, Books Read Before You Even Open Them Since They Belong To The Category Of Books Read Before Being Written. And thus you pass the outer girdle of ramparts, but then you are attacked by the infantry of the Books That If You Had More Than One Life You Would Certainly Also Read But Unfortunately Your Days Are Numbered. With a rapid maneuver you bypass them and move into the phalanxes of the Books You Mean To Read But There Are Others You Must Read First, the Books Too Expensive Now And You'll Wait Till They're Remaindered, the Books ditto When They Come Out In Paperback, Books You Can Borrow From Somebody, Books That Everybody's Read So It's As If You Had Read Them, Too. Eluding these assaults, you came up beneath the towers of the fortress, where other troops are holding out: 

the Books You've Been Planning To Read For Ages,
the Books You've Been Hunting For Years Without Success,
the Books Dealing With Something You're Working On At The Moment,
the Books You Want To Own So They'll Be Handy Just In Case,
the Books You Could Put Aside Maybe To Read This Summer,
the Books You Need To Go With Other Books On Your Shelves,
the Books That Fill You With Sudden, Inexplicable Curiosity, Not Easily Justified. 

Now you have been able to reduce the countless embattled troops to an army that is, to be sure, very large but still calculable in a finite number; but this relative relief is then undermined by the ambush of the Books Read Long Ago Which It's Now Time To Reread and the Books You've Always Pretended To Have Read And Now It's Time To Sit Down And Really Read Them.  

With a zigzag dash you shake them off and leap straight into the citadel of the New Books Whose Authors Or Subjects Appeal To You. Even inside this stronghold you can make some breaches in the ranks of the defenders, dividing them into New Books By Authors Or On Subjects Not New (for you or in general) and New Books By Authors Or On Subjects Completely Unknown (at least to you), and defining the attraction they have for you on the basis of your desires and needs for the new and the not new (for the new you seek in the not new and the for the not new you seek in the new).

(No doubt you can see now why Italo Calvino stands in the highest echelon of authors, in my estimation.)

So let's be real, friends: Which of these categories of books do you still fall for? 

I think I have literally fallen for every single category in this list at least once, though I'm particularly weak against the attacks of Books That Fill You With Sudden, Inexplicable Curiosity, Not Easily Justified and Books You've Always Pretended To Have Read And Now It's Time To Sit Down And Really Read Them.