On My Nightstand

Do you have a reading problem you're trying to overcome? Can you not stop reading? Do you buy too many books and stay up too late at night working your way through them? If so, I have your solution: start a blog dedicated to your narrative forays. I guarantee you'll cure yourself of the ailment in no time.

Just kidding for the most part. I'm still at it, I'm just kind of all over the place. Take a look at the stack I woke up to this morning: (from bottom to top) April 2010 issue of Vanity Fair, The Baby Book by Dr. William Sears, Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert, and old faithful Then We Came to the End by Joshua Ferris.

I've picked up where I left off in Then We Came to the End and, just like previously, I am really enjoying it. The problem here is length. It's so long, too long. The type is small. I've never opened up about this, but, as much as I love reading, I really appreciate a short novel. I like the quick gratification that comes from reading a 150- to 200-page book. This is also a key part of my attraction to volumes of poetry and short stories. They're short. I have this annoying, self-imposed rule about finishing everything I start. This means that if I start a long book, damnit, I will see it through to completion, even if it means laboring through it for months. I've always been a bit embarrassed by this fact. Aren't we always taught that if you really love reading, then you really want to read books that also double as doorstops or (in my case) bassinet props? Well, I am officially outing myself as a wussy lover of the small, digestible book.

Second from the top is Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert. What to say ... this book wasn't supposed to find its way to my nightstand, especially not in hardcover edition (I am very picky about making a hardcover investment). Then one day I found myself magnetically drawn to the perfectly clementine cover (really, it's exactly my favorite color) on the Costco book table and a couple weeks later, here I am in Elizabeth Gilbert hell. I think of Elizabeth Gilbert novels like Cinnabons. They sound so good, but half-way through you realize you were never really interested and now you have a stomach ache. It was just the idea that was so enticing. I think I would love to travel with Elizabeth Gilbert. I would love to be her friend. I bet she has great jewlery and cool clothes that I would compliment and maybe get to borrow if we became close enough. I would like to talk about her travels and her career over a long dinner and a couple glasses of wine, but then we could both part ways and go about other, more important things. I read Eat Pray Love and I enjoyed the first half or so, but the lengthy descriptions of her meditation trials at the ashram? I just lost interest. This second novel held my interest for only the first chapter or so before I found myself asking, "Why should I care?" As much as I like and admire you, Elizabeth Gilbert, I think this puppy is headed for the local Book Exchange.

Next, the Baby Book by Dr. William Sears. I used to pour over this when Nicky was an infant for great tips on entertaining and stimulating baby, mixed with some tough love on being a working mom and the risk of detachment (it's always been a bit of a love-hate relationship with this one). Anyway, now having given up mom guilt, I return to it when I need a reminder that tantrums will pass and that I am a lucky ducky because my high-need child is so in touch with his wants and needs. I've needed that reminder in the past 2 days.

And finally, good old Vanity Fair. Before I had Nicky I would read each issue from cover to cover. Now I buy one once every 4 months and I read a couple articles before recycling it. I'm sorry I had to pick this one, it's really lame (but still, thank you husband for picking it up for me!!).

What's on your nightstand??