I just finished reading a marvelous book of essays about Chicago and Chicagoans, Neil Steinberg’s You Were Never in Chicago, recommended by a friend. It was educational, engaging, and made me think a lot about what makes Chicago unique and what makes someone a Chicagoan. It also left me further behind in my planned/desired reading than I was when I started it.

(“How does this happen?” she asks, rhetorically.)

I know I’m not unique in this, but every time I read a good book, I walk away from it with a list of other books that it has made me want to read. In this case, I got off pretty easy (as we always said where I grew up), with only two books added to my reading list: Theodore Dreiser’s Sister Carrie and A.J. Liebling’s Second City, which provided the inspiration for Steinberg’s title.

Meanwhile, I was invited to another friend’s next book club meeting, to discuss a book I love, John Irving’s A Prayer for Owen Meany, which I am considering doing but which would require that I reread that marvelous book first—a treat if I do it, but yet another book added to the list. On top of that, I glanced through NPR’s Best Books of 2015 list and wound up pulling out my public library app and putting in requests for at least eight other books. (Warning: Best books lists are rabbit holes from which you might never emerge.)

In the course of the last two or three weeks, I’ve read about 1 1/2 books but added about a dozen to my reading list. Even before that, I had more than a half-dozen new-ish books waiting for me in a stack next to my bed, each of which managed to call out my name in a bookstore and subsequently jump into a purchase bag. You don’t even want to know the sum total of books on my reading list at this point. I’m afraid to count them up.

Behinder and behinder I get.

It’s a nice problem to have, of course. I always have interesting reading on hand, can always find a book to take on a trip or fill an evening or weekend when I just can’t get to the bookstore or library. I have poetry, novels, non-fiction, a broad range of choices, variety enough that there’s always something on hand to draw me in.

My life is richer, even though I know that I can’t possibly ever read everything on the list. I can’t keep adding multiple books for every one I read and ever hope the list will dwindle. The math is just wrong:

1 + 3 ≠ -1

 

Ah, well (she says with a smile). Back to my reading.

Here’s the one I’m in the middle of now: Amy Stewart’s Girl Waits With Gun. I have the NPR book list to thank for this one. If you’re wondering, I’m about one-third of the way in and enjoying it.