Every year on the first of January, I make a reading goal for myself. Usually it comes in the form of a number: how many books I’d like to have read by the time December thirty-first rolls around.
Sometimes this makes me a desperate reader. Actually, being a reader makes me a desperate reader. If I open the pages of a book, I have to finish them. Otherwise, I feel like a failure.
This year, I’ve decided to be more forgiving of myself. If I’m not feeling a book, I’ll DNF it.Continue reading “Not Every Book Ends on the Last Page”