Choose Your Own Adventure

Over the past couple years my illiterate drinking buddies friends have graciously informed me that owning books, reading them and subsequently looking for someone to discuss them with has not been deemed cool. Booo literacy. Being the maverick that I am, with my latest find proudly tucked beneath my arm, I shout hooray for bestowing this disquisition on your ass during a bar league softball game. Who doesn't want to discuss Tocqueville's Democracy in America while dodging erratic fly balls, imbibing warm beer from a plastic cup?


With that said, I believe your personal collection reveals a lot about personality, interests and intellect. If you do not in fact have enough books to be considered a collection by your 20s, then I'm going to have to assume you are intimately familiar with your local library or you detest knowledge, personal growth and stimulating that part of your brain which enjoys thinking. Maybe that's not an entirely accurate assessment of personal intelligence, but as I've stated before, I don't require much proof or logic to support my theories. Truthfully I hope my theory is dissuaded, otherwise I've insulted a disproportionate number of my acquaintances and highlighted the fact that I'm drawn to a benighted lot. Oh, and I'm an exasperatingly pompous, book toting, parvenu. So back to me....

While searching for the Starburst I dropped dusting my bookshelf and perusing the bindings, I'd have to say my collection affirms the following characteristics:

• I am a 20-something year old woman. [British Chick Lit - Anna Maxted and Sophie Kinsella are some of my faves.]
  
• I travel often but don't know anything about my destination because all of my travel book bindings are uncreased - further reveals, I'm quite absentminded. [3 books on Peru that I forgot to take with me, then forgot to care about reading when I returned home.]


• I seek inspiration from war heroes, politicians and titans of industry whose lifestyles and pursuits are nearly impossible for me to replicate, thus ensuring I cannot feel too guilty for falling considerably short. [General Tommy Franks, Clarence Thomas, Jack Welch]


• James Rollins captures my sense of adventure as I try to strategize my own escapes from page to page. However, he's far more realistic as my solution usually involves some sort of flying device, poison or grenades.


• I'm still trying to figure out what it is exactly that I was suppose to have learned in college. [Numerous books on economics.]


• I thought I was going to law school. [Why am I still holding onto 6 LSAT prep books?]


• Can read more than 200 pages. [2 of my favorite books are Anna Karenina and Atlas Shrugged]


• I probably should have taken more theology classes in college. I'm still interested in discovering how religion shapes society, what I was suppose to learn in Sunday school, and techniques for really subjugating my Christian values upon others. [The Contested Public Square, by Greg Forster ; The Cost of Discipleship, Dietrich Bonhoeffer; Concordia]


• I believe analyzing any and all stages of relationships is a worthwhile endeavor, albeit ineffectual. I have such titles as Before You Get Engaged, 10 Conversations You Must Have Before You Get Married, The Proper Care & Feeding of Marriage, and the ever popular Toxic In-Laws. I have read all of these bestsellers cover to cover only to find myself more perplexed than ever. In purchasing these books, I think my goal was to find some answers or reassurance. What I ended up discovering was that I'm a lousy, selfish girlfriend and have been harboring a lot of resentment. Looking back through my notes in the margins, I also have proof that I'm a compulsive liar not entirely honest about the state of my relationships. I'd like to believe that I communicate effectively, am selfless when it comes to my partner's needs, an advocate for monogamy, realistic in my expectations. All these stupid books just highlight the fact that I'm quick to throw a hissy fit if I don't get my way, my sharing skills rival a kindergartners, I like painting myself into the picture of someone in possession of a more glamorous/exciting/passionate life, and I may in fact envy polygamists.

I suppose depending on your genre of choice, books can offer a means of escape, intellectual stimulation, a few laughs or bragging rights. Why then, do so many stop reading after grades no longer matter? I truly believe that those who hate reading (why someone would freely admit this is beyond me) simply haven't found the genre that suits them. Hell, try a choose-your-own-adventure book! They're quick, written at a 3rd grade level and usually entail some sort of space odyssey, lost treasure, harrowing escape or time travel. Edward Packard and R.A. Montgomery really nailed this brilliant literary category. Once you get your feet wet and a taste for all the trappings of bookish delight, I challenge you to make a genuine effort at expanding your personal collection. If not for the sake of knowledge and a proficient use of the English language, then for simply the shallow pleasure of impressing someone you're trying to sleep with your colleagues.