Funny piece on people who read more than one book at a time. What if your books got jealous of your promiscuous reading habits?

“So where have you been all night? I’ve been here, with that Barnes & Noble bookmark stuck on page 135, just waiting for you to come back.”

“Well, I … uh … I had to stay late at the office.”

“Again? That’s the third night this week.”

This is definitely me – I often have 3, 4, even 5 that I’ve started. I tend to then narrow down to 1 or 2 for a few days and finish them, then pick up on the old ones, add a couple new ones, and start the process again. At the moment I am somewhere in the middle of the following:

Song Yet Sung, by James McBride


World Without End, by Ken Follet (I got almost to the end and have stalled for weeks reading other things)


The Battle for Spain, by Antony Beevor


La Biblia del Barro, Julia Navarro


Invisible Cities, by Italo Calvino (reading it in Spanish though)


And Seneca’s Essays (which are perpetually open, in an almost “personal bible” sort of way)


So who would be jealous of whom? Italo Calvino might look down on World Without End. But Seneca would think the idea of jealousy a petty waste of time.