On the Mortality of Writers, the Failure of a Reader, and Appropriate Egress from a Henhouse

Okay, so I didn't read a chapter of nonfiction every day in 2009. Maybe I didn't even manage to read a chapter of nonfiction for the first five consecutive days of 2009. I did, however, work my way through 12 nonfiction books in 12 months and that's no small feat for someone with a miserable self-mastery record like mine. I also re-learned, hopefully for the last time, that valuable lesson about putting all one's eggs in the same basket.

To put a positive spin on this whole failure thing, I'd like someone besides Mike to know I zipped, breezed, plowed, and sometimes slogged through 104 books total in 2009. That's a record for me, at least since 1998 when I started keeping a book log after Mom's first stroke. Notice I'm not calling this a "personal best". It's simply a record in terms of quantity which, as we all know, seldom equates to quality.

Those 104 books encompass 28 mysteries, 12 nonfictions, and 64 works I classify as general fiction. The numbers surprise me. Most years I tend to read more mysteries than anything else. My grandmother steered me to this genre when I was a fledgling reader and thus began a lifelong passion, an interest I've enjoyed sharing with my parents and some of my siblings.

It's easy to credit Mike's deployment for the sheer number of books I read last year but what could account for the decline in mysteries? Was this perhaps a semi-subconscious act of emotional self-protection?

Sadly, three of my very favorite mystery authors cannot by any stretch of my admittedly infamous imagination be considered "long for this world." Ruth Rendell will turn 80 in February, Martha Grimes will be 79 in May, and -- knock on wood -- P.D. James will celebrate her ninetieth birthday come August 3.

These distinguished women are the nearest to aunts I have left in this world. Frankly, I worry about their health the way other people seem to concern themselves with the extramarital shenanigans of professional golfers. Crazy? It is, as the expression goes, what it is.

Yet, even with this black cloud of impending doom hovering on the not-distant-enough horizon throughout 2009, I managed to pull myself away from the health reports long enough to read some memorable mysteries.


Nephew Pete, apparently a chip off his great-grandmother's block, introduced me to the delightful Scottish writer Denise Mina who penned a whopping five of my ten favorite mysteries in 2009. Two others were by the, alas, now-deceased (perhaps I'm a jinx) Swedish journalist Stieg Larsson. Amazon.com gets the nod for nudging me to try Larsson, the often hilarious young physician-in-training Josh Bazell, C. Alan Bradley, and C. J. Box (whose Blue Heaven earned the Edgar Award).

Amazon also suggested four of my ten favorite general fiction books last year: The Help, The Brothers K, Lark and Termite, and Whistling in the Dark. My sister-in-law Cathy recommended Still Alice and gets bonus points for being Pete's mother (they can take that any way they choose). Thanks to Kathleen Marra gifting me with The Sea, I am rather smitten with John Banville and slowly tackling his other books. Roberta from my original Tidewater book club tipped me off to The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox and Kate's Dead Authors Book Club in Northern Virginia forced me to re-read The Great Gatsby, a surprisingly enriching experience. (I am beginning to remind myself of Sally Fields accepting her first Oscar.)

The other authors who made my Top Ten (I'm sure it means the world to them) are repeat performers who have not (yet) failed to please, impress, and usually both. I am, if not a terribly discerning reader, a ridiculously loyal reader. If you don't believe me, just ask Martha Grimes, P.D. James, or Ruth Rendell.

Having re-learned that basket of eggs lesson the painful way, I've decided to double my reading resolutions for 2010. I am posting them here to shame myself into trying to stay focused on at least one of them. I don't imagine they would be of the slightest interest to most of you.

1. Read Ulysses (The "quality over quantity" resolution)
2. Read 12 nonfiction books (The "if you can't beat them, pat yourself on the back for playing well with others" resolution as my current book clubs have already assigned three nonfiction books for 2010 and any attempt on my part to halt this disturbing trend would surely result in shattered psyches the length of the Miura Peninsula)

Now excuse me while I snuggle up with a good book, the essential first step in creating new lists for 2010. Creating those lists will help me rationalize puttering around in Amazon, and maybe I'll accidentally wander into the recommendation section . . .