I used to think that constant hand wringing over book choices was the exclusive domain of anxiety-ridden bloggers.
- Am I reading enough classics?
- Should I be reading something “smarter”?
- Do I read too many dead white guys?
- Should I read more non-fiction?
- Do audiobooks even count?
- Is 50 books a year enough?!
We all do it. We’re all self-conscious. We all write at least a post a year as a solemn decree to read what we want, when we want, and let the snobs be damned. Then we go back to asking the same questions again and the cycle never ends.
As it turns out, this process has been going on for at least a hundred years, as evidenced by Viriginia Woolf’s read-whatever-you-god-damn-well-please essay, “How Should One Read a Book?” (Available for free right here.)
So today, on what is Woolf’s 136th birthday, let us give Virginia the stage. Let her ease our worries, and clean our guilty slates for a year of reading whatever makes us happy in 2018.