Book pile of shame

This is a near-complete representation of every book of fiction that I’ve purchased or undertaken in the last few years, but never got around to. In some cases, I stopped halfway and never finished. You know how hard it is to come back to those: making your way back through half-remembered bits just feels like a waste of time. And you can’t just jump back in to where you last were either, so the books end up sitting there, making you feel miserable. Maybe a bit like a hated spouse who has to be killed off, but in this case it’s all your fault. You were the one who left. “Murderer”, her dead eyes glare at you.

So now I will rededicate myself to reading, and make it through the pile. I have to admit that three of the books in there were just bought tonight, during a late night Borders run. It’s a bit like a fat kid who lives in the ceiling of a buffet restaurant, nipping out for a bit of the Burger King. Ridiculous.
*Sadly some books are missing. I don’t know if I left them in the UK, or perhaps lent them out. Does anybody have my copy of Vanity Fair (the novel)?

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