Despite writing about balancing students’ reading diets, I have recently come to terms with the imbalance in my own reading life. While I read constantly and collect books like a mad woman hoarding canned goods for the end of the world, I read nonfiction almost exclusively. On a given day you will find 2-5 in-progress books in my gigantic purse, along with a tin of assorted nerd tools, i.e. post-it flags, highlighters in various colors, a mechanical pencil, etc. Years spent in graduate school and then writing professional texts have all but ruined me. Having four sons hasn’t really made it easier to engage in leisure reading, either.

Almost everything I have read in the last ten years has met an obvious, immediate need (not including the need to relax or escape or feed my soul), from personal needs (Sell Your House in Five Days or Less) to family emotional needs (The Five Love Languages of Children or Scolding: Why it Hurts More than it Helps) to family physical needs (Toilet Training in Less than a Day or The Engine 2 Diet) to professional needs (Mindset or Opening Minds) to personal self-help (The Joy Diet or Wherever You Go, There You Are). From Gladwell to Angier, my reading diet is woefully heavy in non-fiction.

 

So, I have been gently redirecting myself toward fiction, even if I have to let myself read it with a highlighter. This exercise of falling in love again is proving safe and gratifying. Last night, I finished *The Education of Little Tree, which was beautiful. My husband read it long ago and a couple of years ago read it aloud to our son. It is one of those books that I feel I “should have” read, and am not sure how I got through years of educational training without reading. Nevertheless, it is a transformational text. I should add, however, that after I finished it, my husband looked up the author, Forest Carter, and we were dismayed to learn of his controversial (at best) past, as a violent supporter of segregation. Now I’m not sure where to put the book on the shelves of my soul, as it is hard to separate the experience of reading it from the darkness of the author’s life.

Other books on my summer reading list follow:

 

 I am about 100 pages into The Story of Edgar Sawtelle and it is beautifully written. It is about a family that raises and trains dogs and their son who is born mute, despite being able to hear. The baby never cries or makes noises. The story is about language and relationships and love. The narrator’s voice is omniscient, including knowing the thoughts of the canine characters. I’ve talked to several people who have read the book and their reactions to it are always exuberant. So far, so beautiful.

In an earlier life, I read all of Barbara Kingsolver’s fiction, so her new book seemed worthy of my attention. It deals with life, love, family, culture, and religion and is set in the south. I am a few chapters in and the emerging paradoxical themes of individualism and tradition resonate with me. Kingsolver’s stories are always so authentic.

 

Believe it or not, it seems that I picked this book up at Goodwill on the very same day Kim purchased it at a yard sale. So, we are inadvertently reading it together. It is a really light read, but not without some substance. The main character is in the middle of a divorce and has a ten year old son. There is something about the main character with which I really identify. Her self talk oscillates between finding her highest self, imagining a hilarious worst case scenario, and descending into self loathing. I find her interactions with her son really capture some of the vulnerability inherent in mothering. I use my highlighter less with this book than with others (progress perhaps), but there are thought gems in here.

 

My friend literally jumped up and down with joy when she saw that the third book in this dystopian trilogy is due out in September. I don’t know exactly what it is about … something about the environment, but I like books about dystopias (If I know Kim Yaris she will read this one, too!) and read The Handmaid’s Tale years ago. I anticipate not being unable to put this one down.

 

I recently heard Natalie Goldberg speak at Avid Bookshop, our local independent bookstore here in Athens, Georgia. She said that Ballad of a Sad Cafe is one of her favorite stories and that, considering that the author is from Georgia and that the story is set in Georgia, if any of us hadn’t read it, we should. So, I’m on it.

Of course, I have some non-fiction on my summer list, but I’m prioritizing my “spare” time towards fiction with the intention of rehabituating a narrative reading process that visualizes more and outlines less. Here are some titles on my desk in the to-be-read cue:

 

 

 

 

Finally, I seem to have wandered away from poetry, too, although not as a far. A friend recently reconnected me with Rumi’s poem “Guest House.” This came just after recent rereadings of two of my favorite books of poetry, Women I Have Known and Been and What Have You Lost?, so I was primed for poetry. I have read Rumi before but not extensively and, since this book is labeled “Essential,” it seems the place to to spend some time in poetry this summer.

 

In closing, Kim and I have found this exercise in planning the next couple of months in our reading lives engaging. We are always immersed in books, but there is something about intentionally planning, narrowing, considering that feels a little like a reading ceremony. It is rather like making New Year’s Resolutions but with books. It has also helped us consider our reading lives holistically and think about ways we can grow. We are talking about doing this exercise seasonally on the blog, perhaps to mark the change of each season.

In addition, this exercise has generated a lot of conversation about books with friends and colleagues. We are considering reviving our Friday blog posting schedule and dedicating Friday’s to posting new books on our “reading radars”? Perhaps, it will help us all transition to the weekends. We hope you will share what is on your reading radar on upcoming Friday’s as well.