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:
- Gunpowder Plot, Carola Dunn
- The Odessa File, Frederick Forsyth (audio)
- The Woodcutter, Reginald Hill (audio)
- Never Tell A Lie, Hallie Ephron
- Still Waters, Nigel McCreary
- Pictures of Perfection, Reginald Hill
- The Clocks, Agatha Christie (audio)
- At Home, Bill Bryson (audio)
- 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.