I randomly plucked dusty books from various locations around my house . I decided a proof positive picture of my book guilt was in order.

<~~~All these books, over there, are unread.

A Fraudulent book impression sprinkled within my bookshelves.

And although no one has asked for a confession of any sort, the burden of my counterfeit book behavior is making me come clean. For the record, since I’m making this official and all, that’s just a small example of my non-read, yet remains on my bookshelves like a used book….. guilt. (there’s always a drop of  ‘someday’ lingering)

I didn’t start off as a guilty poser. Every book I’ve purchased was above board, laced with innocent reading intention and full consumption hope. I’ve never bought a book based on a shallow notion it would look good on my bookshelf. Or thought that,  just by a books mere presence, my overall book stock would go up. However, I have probably bought a book or two, To Read,  just in case…..you know…..someone smart and whip brilliant finds me fascinating enough to say, “Oh, Rebecca, you sound so book knowledgeable, pray tell, what was your interpretation of  Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina.?”

Hey, just when you think it wouldn’t  happen, it would……..

With all that being said,  I can claim to having cracked the spine on every one of those abandoned books. A valiant effort certainly commenced. Each book had it’s chance to wrap it’s arms around me and take me to a new world. Every one of those books bored me to tears until I simply tossed them aside for something a bit more interesting, a bit more entertaining and a lot less monotonous.  

This might be a good moment to mention, so that I don’t come across as (gasp) illiterate, the classics I’m referring to are mainly pre- 1940′s style of writing and living. There are a few I’ve enjoyed, a select few.

Sigh. I feel such shame in my lack of enthusiasm for the majority of classics. I’d like to adhere to the notion that it  takes a certain sort of mind frame, or a unique personality to bask in the (supposed) pleasure of swimming though classics………..Evidently, I do not fall into that category. For those of you that possess the tenacity and virtue to wade through these books….For one, I’m jealous and furthermore, I applaud you, admire you and of course grovel for your understanding and acceptance that not all of us ‘get it’……….

This also concludes all previous ambitions I held of joining a Jane Austen Club. I have a feeling if I tried to sneak into one, those devote Austen souls could sniff out a cliff notes impostor in 10 minutes flat. I’d be flogged before I could say Pride and Prejudice.