As time went by, however, the playing field got too crowded, too... mainstream, and the situation seems to have gotten wackier and scarier. At some point I just gave up - why bother when satire writes itself?
After five years of being a purely personal blog with a varied mishmash, I made it into an online showcase of my published works, though the main focus is on books, publishing and maybe writing. In keeping with the title, I'll also post reviews of other books I have read, restaurants I've eaten at, and the occasional movie or music album. Lately, I've also begun cooking, so expect the occasional kitchen adventure as well.
Everything here is based on my own personal opinions. I do not speak for my company, community or country, unless I choose to.
No, I don't hate books.
Bookstores rank high among my list of favourite haunts. I find the rows upon rows of shelves familiar and comforting. When it comes to picking up a book to read, however....
Some of my days end like this
When I open a book, I am compelled to finish it. I'm one of those who are annoyed by the taunts of unfinished books. If a book turns out to be bad, well, bummer. Then there are books that immerse you completely into their realities, so much so that you lose all sense of time and priorities.
Such forces are scary. Some days I don't even touch a book, to avoid that feeling, that I failed to finish something. But as a book editor and (sometimes) reviewer, that is no excuse not to read. Good, bad, or abysmally horrific, you have to keep going or nothing gets cleared. The job helps fight the dread in a big way.
So I do read books. I sure as hell read manuscripts. The sight of books doesn't send me shrieking and flying out of a bookstore. What I have isn't bibliophobia, but it's close.
For those who stumbled in here looking for information about "the fear", here's something I wrote about the real bibliophobia.