Confessions Of A Forgotten Book From Your Home Library

The book you have ignored since 2019 finally has something to say

An Actual Photo of Author’s To Be Read pile

Hi! It’s me, the book stashed at the bottom of your To Be Read pile that has been lying face down on the lowest shelf of your so-called home library since 2019. You promised you’d pick me up. Lockdown came and went, but I haven’t seen better days. Honestly, the only human touch I felt was the one time you picked me up wearing a mask, and sprayed me vehemently with alcohol spray, kept me in the sunlight, and tapped my spine before putting me back.

I remember the day you picked me up at the Barnes & Noble after browsing the store for an hour. With your constant cycle of picking, reading, putting back — picking, reading, putting back, I was convinced you were scoring a free workout.

But when you hovered a little longer on me, I knew. I was THE ONE.

You carried me home in your fancy tote bag alongside a Crochet for Beginners book (the poor thing finally passed away this week from neglect). I was on metaphorical cloud nine. I remember the mutual excitement we shared when you brought me home, carefully placed me on your nightstand, and announced to your family, “I am reading this next.”

Since then, I have watched 52 books arrive, and most have become my grief sharers.

A few lucky ones were finished in a week, luckier ones in two days, but most others were discarded in piles, or worse, were dog-eared; they still wear those creases like battle scars.

Years of lying here haven’t improved my disposition. I watch you bring home book after book, only for them to be tossed on top of me, crushing my internal organs rather cruelly. If not for this hardcover binding, I would have caved in years ago.

After careful analysis, I’ve noticed a pattern. At the beginning of every year, there is a towering pile of non-fiction books on your reading desk, primarily self-improvement books. Did you know these books give me the stink eye as they promenade on the well-lit floor at night, mocking us, the Crushed Books. The joke’s on them: come February, they are replaced by Fiction.

Not just any fiction, but the Time Recommended and the NYT bestsellers. The highly recommended books, the award winners. They last a while though, because you pick them up and turn the page slowly, seemingly absorbing the words, gulping down the profound wisdom, but I wait for the yawn, the yawn is a dead giveaway that the book is joining us. I am not ashamed to admit I sometimes get a sly smile on my face when I see your eyes droop a little, because I know the pride bearers will be in the discarded pile soon.

I see you set a reading goal of 100 books every January, adjusting it to 50 by March, 15 by August, and by November, we all quietly pretend it never happened. I watch you sheepishly type in a single-digit goal, guilt plastered across your face, as though Goodreads has a hidden camera crew standing by to broadcast your self-declared failure nationwide.

I don’t understand humans. You set unattainable standards for yourselves and then feel guilty when you lower them to something far more achievable.

Recently, there was an invasion of the hippy books that came with fame from something called Book-Tok. You hugged them close to your bosom, their solemn faces indicated nothing while I was fuming in jealousy. That night I dreamt of being swallowed by a big black hole and found On the Origin of Species drooling next to me upon my sudden waking.

I sometimes see you glancing my way, I know you want me, that tilt of your head and that glazed eye indicate a remembrance of my memories in your heart. I don’t blame you, it’s a human tendency to chew more than you can swallow.

Looking at your library it would be years of dedicated reading before you could get to me, and between your job, work out, mental balance, kids, school drop offs, breakfast, lunches, dinners, mandatory vacations and movie nights I see you try to sneak in reading but I want to assure you, I am not worried. The rest of us Crushed Books know it too, you are tired, busy and doing your best. So if you happen to pull me or anyone of my siblings, don’t worry about finishing us.

I have been waiting since 2019, what’s one more chapter between friends?