Ink Tea Stone Leaf

I think there might be something a bit wrong with how I queue my books. What I mean is, I think there might be something wrong with having a systematic queue. Give me a moment to explain.

At present, there are eleven volumes on my queue shelf. I have determined to read them, in order, as they sit from right to left.  This will ensure that all of them will be read in the coming months, which is good. Why does it feel wrong? Well, why those eleven books, out of the hundreds in this house that I haven’t yet read? Why this order? I don’t have good answers. That’s a bit wrong.

Something in my heart tells me that the only virtuous thing to do would be to finish the book I am reading, and then to select whatever book from whatever shelf I want. To plan my reading ahead, to any extent and by whatever means, is to reduce the act of reading to mere consumption. Like a fool, I have allowed myself to participate in the metrics-obsessed gamification of everything, if only in the slightest degree.

But the queue is there. I’m going to follow it, at least until these eleven books are read. Maybe that’s a bit wrong. One day, I’ll have to mend my ways.