Tracking What I Read

I read books. Lots of books.

A good friend once told me that if you’re not reading a book, you’re not an adult.

My friend’s name is Dan. We went to college together, so he’s my age. He told me about this tactic of his at least ten years ago. Dan said whenever he’s at a party or an event or around new people, he doesn’t ask the usual questions, like “What do you do,” “Where are you from,” or “How do you know the host?” Instead, he’ll ask the person what they’re reading. 

“What are you reading?”

He finds the question is usually a strong way to kick off a conversation. He doesn’t care if a person is reading fiction or nonfiction, history or current events, poetry, criticism, interior design, fine art, a celebrity’s memoir, or a beloved childhood novel. What he assumes is that this adult in front of him is reading something, and that this will spark good conversation. If they answer, “Nothing,” “I don’t read,” or “I don’t have time to read books,” Dan turns and walks away. 

“You’re not a real adult if you’re not reading books,” he says.

That’s pretty harsh, more harsh than I’d be. I’d forgive them and recommend a book to that person. Of course, Dan attends way more parties and events than I do, so maybe he’s gotten stuck in one too many corners with someone who’d rather ban books than read them.

Fair enough. He’s learned to move on to the next person at the party, and I totally get his point. If you stopped reading books when you were out of school because you were no longer obligated to keep reading, that’s a shame, and it might mean your education stopped at whatever year you graduated. 

It might also mean your imagination has stalled out, and your capacities for empathy, sympathy, compassion, and multiple points of view have shrunk, all of which may mean the next “Dan” you meet may move on to the next person at the party, maybe someone by the appetizers or closer to the exit.

Yes, there are instrumental reasons for reading, such as to increase your vocabulary and expand your imagination and deepen your humanism, but—setting aside Dan’s literary litmus test for adulthood—I think reading books is also just fun, inspiring, and stimulating: it’s an in-the-moment experience that cannot be replicated any other way. Reading is like listening to music. It’s a sensory, transportive activity. You can live many lives in one life.

So I read.

I read because it’s an expression of my calling to write. As a writer, I read to stay in the game, to get ideas, to feel that itch to write my own stories. I read books unlike any I’d write so that I can push off—like a swimmer making a turn—and write in my own way.

In 2007, I started keeping a list of the books I’d read. I was thirty-seven. It was a little late to start a list like this considering I’d been reading like crazy since I was a kid, but I’d read eighty books that year and, for the first time in my life, wanted to record what I’d read. I jotted them in a journal. It was an impromptu list in hasty scribbles.

I made the move to a word document at some point, and then in 2018, I finally got smart and created a spreadsheet. The more I tracked, the more I wanted to track. At first, I was writing down the book title and author . . . then the date I read it . . . then a note about the book . . . and then . . . well . . .

Today, I track title, author, genre, page count, date read, and my comment on the book. In 2022, I read 174 books: 50 works of nonfiction, 48 novels, 15 books on writing, 14 story collections, 12 graphic novels, 10 poetry collections, and so on, totaling 37,062 pages, which averages into 210 pages per book. I wrote a comment for every book, which amounted to 9,500 words.

This isn’t to impress anyone. It is to say that by just tracking what I read, I create a documentary record of my own reading experience, which in turn gets folded into the batter of my personality, half-baked as it is.

It’s also just plain addicting to track what’s important to you. It’s like showing up to work in nice clothes—shirt and tie, cuffs folded up, good shoes—to show respect for your craft, to honor the art. I might be wearing Lands’ End sweatpants, but I read and write every day. And I track it.

Some people track the birds they’ve watched, the miles they’ve run, the weights they’ve lifted, the people they’ve met, the cities they’ve visited, the movies they’ve watched, or the songs they’ve learned to sing. I track the books I’ve read and what I thought about them. Since 2007, I’ve read 1,300 books.

If you want to track what you read, I recommend starting any way you feel like: write in a notebook, make a chart in a journal, or list them on a poster. And I recommend tracking other features of the books you’re reading. You could identify the authors in greater detail (age, gender, nationality), the countries the authors are from, the settings of the work, the subgenres (like in nonfiction), and so on—whatever interests you.

You might even track how you came by this title. Was it recommended by a top-ten list or a friend? Did you grab it on impulse at the library? If you bought it, where did you buy it? Is it signed by the author?

Ooh, that gives me an idea. I could make a new spreadsheet of the books I own, an inventory of my personal library. I’ve given away and donated so many books over the years, each time I’ve moved, that I think I’d be sad as I made that inventory, barebones as it is (in my opinion). Still, maybe I’ll just do it for my high-value books, the first editions and signed copies.

Anyway, my favorite part of tracking is the comment. I have no rules for the comment. I let loose with whatever the book inspires me to write. I try to keep it short, but if I write long, so be it. I type fast. I also try to be as honest as possible about my own personal, idiosyncratic, impulsive feelings in the moment.

For example, I wrote, “Ugh. So much blather,” about a novel by Milan Kundera. I have written, about other novels, “Ugh. Yet another fictional monologue without drama,” “Good idea. Poor execution. Too many typos,” and “I really tried to read this, but the author doesn’t give me a good enough reason to spend 300 pages with the main character. I closed the book and felt nothing.” 

So, yeah, these are my personal, undiplomatic reactions. I’m not writing a book review for publication, posting on Goodreads, or sharing my thoughts with anyone. If I’m harsh and dismissive, so be it. Maybe it was the mood I was in. I may change my mind later. That’s okay. This is me time.

Commenting on the books I’ve read is like writing an indirect diary entry. This is what I read, and this is the mood I was in, on this particular day. Sometimes I read what I wrote, and I think, “Yowza. What was up with me that day?”

You can color-code some of your entries. For example, I read a collection of interviews with thriller novelists, whose books I went and got, and as I read books by Don Winslow, Elmore Leonard, Scott Turow, Frederick Forsyth, John Grisham, Brad Thor, Lisa Gardner, Michael Connelly, Janet Evanovich, and Patricia Cornwell, I colored their spreadsheet boxes red. Red signals to me that the book is a thriller.

My strategy for reading is to read widely. It’s always been my strategy, but sometimes you’re dependent on the quality of the library near you. I appreciate reading all genres of books by all kinds of authors about all kinds of subjects. I usually buy books, but on my sabbatical, I have to be frugal. So I wander the library and fill up my bookbag and do it again the next week.

You’ve likely heard the advice that you should read the genre you write. Thriller novelists should read thrillers. Romance novelists should read romances. It’s probably decent advice so that you learn the elements of your genre and include each item in your genre’s checklist of “Things the Audience Expects from You.” 

But mostly this isn’t me. I don’t write in just one genre (file my genre infidelity under “Ways to Doom Yourself as a Novelist”). I write what I am compelled to write, and I read what I want to read. I read about anthropology, art, design, music, outer space, and American history. I read graphic novels and scripts. I read all types of novels, old and new. I read stories and poems and plays. I need the stimuli from all sorts of writing.

I have found that reading a lot of nonfiction helps me write better characters in my novel. You can spread your knowledge among your characters. You can do a deep dive into one of your interests, and then you can use that subject to inform the background, dialogue, or situation in your story. When you’re a novelist, you have to be many people at once. You are every character in the story, and you have to write with authority from within the POV of all these types of people. So reading nonfiction definitely helps.

What books do I enjoy most, now that I’m fifty and beyond? 

I enjoy books that breathe, that let me imagine some of the story. I don’t need thirty pages of backstory or ten pages of exposition. I don’t like books where you have one line of mundane dialogue (“What’s up?”) followed by a long paragraph of psychology, biography, and exposition, which is then followed by a line of mundane dialogue from the other speaker (“Not much. You?”) and another three paragraphs of exposition. Oy. When I see that kind of setup on a page, I skim immediately. 

When I was younger, I was into modernism and postmodernism, the experimental and rebellious, the crafty and clever, the typographically playful. And I guess I will always be drawn to this kind of writing. I also like Thomas Hardy, but I’m rarely up for a Thomas Hardy level of description anymore, except in a novel by Thomas Hardy.

I think it’s because the older I get, the more I’ve read, and the more I’ve read, the more I don’t need much exposition in novels. 

My brain is ready to imagine. I gotta lotta stuff in my noggin already. Let’s get to the story.

The best way I can put it is that I appreciate solid storytelling that extracts the maximum drama with the least exposition.

It’s surprisingly difficult to find novels like this.

I need to get more books. Lots of books.

We’re gonna need a bigger library.

_____

PHOTO: A screenshot of my spreadsheet of books I’ve read