Reading is the subject of this blog and what can I say: it’s a lovely town in Berkshire with an important historically context, particularly around the Medieval period.
I suppose I should also take the time to write a bit about books. To be honest, I don’t read many books in my leisure time, the main reason is that as a student I spent the bulk of my time reading (and eating Pot Noodles). Thus, the idea of spending my free time reading is slightly absurd; you wouldn’t expect a coal miner to finish work and then relax by going down the pit for a few hours in the evening. Similarly a Gynaecologist is unlikely to get home and start inspecting his wife’s neither regions… well… actually… I suppose gynaecology can be a stressful occupation and he has to relax somehow.
However, my time as a student has now ceased and I have a slight quandary, should I start reading? Without wanting to show-off, I am relatively intelligent and I don’t believe that reading is either necessary or sufficient to regard someone as “intelligent”. For example, I wouldn’t refer to Chris Finch, who reads a “book a week” as more intelligent than me – perhaps not the best example to use, as he’s a fictional character.
Whilst I do read a small amount of books here and there, I read very little with respect to stories as I struggle to empathise with a character that I know doesn’t exist – for my fiction outlets, I prefer to read Wikipedia and Political parties’ manifestoes.
My non-reading isn’t due to a lack of books, I do have a pile of books that I am due to read, most of which will hopefully be completed sooner rather than later. In addition, I am a member of my local library, which I can borrow books from as long as I can bear the screaming children that tend to be present when I walk in.
In addition, I have recently found out that charity shops can be a great source of books. I went in one the other day to offload some t-shirts that I used to wear a few years ago, the vast bulk of which appeared to be designed by a four year old who had eaten too many smarties, and then vomited all over their designs due to their high sugar intake. Just as I dropped off these deckchair inspired shirts I noticed a table full of books, all of them at the bargin basement price of 75 pence each or 3 for £2. Included in there were some bestsellers, such as Pamela Stephenson’s biography about her husband Billy Connolly and Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code – which is still overpriced at 75 pence.
The visit to the charity shop provided me with many questions, especially as there was an enormous cellar downstairs with even more books in there, the volume of which was easily double what was on display in the shop. First and foremost, is everyone else like me and doesn’t read very much, clearly there is an abundance of supply, but is there the demand? Does everyone instead actually read a lot, perhaps there is one huge complex set-up which involves passing books on to each other in a structured network that I don’t understand (a bit like The Tube) and I’m not part of it? And, more importantly, even at 50 pence, who in their right mind will buy my old shirts…
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