I spend a lot of time worrying that I look like a hypocrite. I wouldn't mind actually being a hypocrite, only if someone thought I was. (Is that hypocritical of me? Well as long as you don't know about it, I don't care.)
Now that nearly all of our books are on display, I worry that the following conversation will happen:
VISITOR: Wow, you've got a lot of books.
A RANDOM STRANGER: Yeah.
VISITOR [pointing at random book]: What'd you think of this one?
A RANDOM STRANGER: I haven't read that one, actually.
VISITOR [pointing at a different book]: What about this one?
A RANDOM STRANGER: I haven't read that one yet, either?
VISITOR [aside]: So this guy has all these books just to look smart.
exeunt.
How possible is this scenario? To calculate it, I went through the books we have downstairs and counted how many I read. The final tally: 257 read out of 635 books, which is slightly more than 40 percent. Things get better if you disregard my wife's books, because I'm probably not going to read any Annie Brashares, Meg Cabot, or Louise Rennison. If you eliminate them, I've read over half my books. But maybe I shouldn't rule out all my wife's books: Persephone says some of Betsey Burke's stuff can get pretty smutty.




