On an email list, the question of the week was what titles the members had read this month.  I decided to answer it, just for fun, out of curiosity about how many books I had read.  I didn’t think it would be many.

In searching my Audible books, my Kindle app, the Nook and my overdue library notices, I found that I could reliably say I’d read:

  1. Gunpowder Plot, Carola Dunn
  2. The Odessa File, Frederick Forsyth (audio)
  3. The Woodcutter, Reginald Hill (audio)
  4. Never Tell A Lie, Hallie Ephron
  5. Still Waters, Nigel McCreary
  6. Pictures of Perfection, Reginald Hill
  7. The Clocks, Agatha Christie (audio)
  8. At Home, Bill Bryson (audio)
  9. Roseanna, Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö (begun)

Barchester Towers, by Anthony Trollope is an ongoing project, dipped into when I remember to do so, but it’s been going on so long that I don’t think I ought to include it in the August total.  (the photo doesn’t count, either, as I was 14 when it was taken — The Emperor’s Pearl by Robert van Gulik)

The audio books are listened to during my two-mile walk each day (or as many ‘each days’ as I insist that I do — willing spirit, reluctant flesh and all that), so I’m assuming they bump up the total.  Still, I’ve managed more than I expected.

Now, if only I’d written as many words as I’ve consumed.  Mr. Trollope, who held a full-time job while he wrote, would tsk.