If you’re reading this, chances are you’re a Reader! You might also read shampoo bottles, cereal boxes, and napkins if they have anything printed on them. Reading is one addiction that is rarely seen as problematic. Bill Hicks had a piercing bit about a waitress asking him, “What you readin’ for?” Not “What are you reading?” But what are you reading for. See, it’s funny because we don’t need a reason to read; it’s good in itself.
I read nonfiction. I need it. I am the zombie and books are the brains.
But there is a dark side to reading, and I am not talking about when your mom stuck her index finger in a book and looked up at you, feigning patience, while you told her about your new super contraption that would keep the monsters from under your bed and all you needed was some string, duck tape, a wheelbarrow, two kazoos, and a hamster, preferably black but white with brown spots would do. No, I’m talking about the bane of all addictions: money.
I read nonfiction. I need it. I am the zombie and books are the brains. And I need fresh brains. Hardback, if you know what I mean. But that gets expensive, and then they just sit there, going to waste. Lucky for me, the city has a methadone-for-readers program. It’s called a library.
It was a good thing I found out about it when I did. My house was starting to fill with paraphernalia. A dozen book cases, stacked sideways and top to bottom with dead trees and print. They would mound up on my desk, floor, kitchen table, TV, mantle, anywhere there was an open square foot of space. But the library, ah the library — they give ’em to you free and then, check this out, then they take them back. You can try books you aren’t at all sure you’ll like and there’s no regret. If you do find one you like, you can keep it longer or get it again later. Other people can borrow it and you don’t have to worry that you’ll never get it back because it wasn’t yours in the first place.
A book habit is more like abusing food than abusing drugs. You can’t go cold turkey. No one expects you to give up reading altogether. You just have to get it under control. I no longer miss or crave that buzz from coming home with a bag full of new books, unless they all have plastic dust jacket covers. Spending money on a book I could get at the library is pointless, unless it’s reference material, like those parenting, nutrition, and finance books. And the how-to case is getting a little crowded, what with our attempts at organic gardening, those DIY electric car manuals, and the cookbooks. (I’ve tried borrowing cookbooks, copying out the yummy-looking recipes, but I seem to need a dozen or so on hand for perusing.) And nobody gets to say a word about my three shelf and expanding collection of dictionaries, thesauri, and grammar handbooks. Oh, and then there are the children’s books. And … What? I don’t have a problem. It’s completely under control. Really.