I read a lot. Some of the books I read are certainly better than others. I thought perhaps I'd write a review occasionally. When I do, this is where you'll find them!
I read about forty books a year. The vast majority of these are fiction novels, though I occasionally sprinkle in anthologies, non-fiction books, and a couple of children's books (for nothing other than sheer nostalgia) to keep it spicy.
A few months ago, somebody at my book club told me that he was reading the Bible. I'd blinked at him.
"I didn't take you for a particularly religious man."
"I'm not," he replied cheerily. "I just thought it'd be an interesting thing to do. To look at this text - considered sacred by so many cultures - as a historical record, and also a literary one."
To my knowledge, I believe he is still working on it. But it got me thinking - why do I read? Well, the answer is, because it's fun (though thinking of this question, however rhetorically, always puts me in mind of the Bill Hicks bit.) I read because I have always read, because I remember learning to read about as well as I remember learning to breathe; a strange quirk of my own personality more than anything, because my parents do not read and, until I was about seven and started clamouring for them, I don't believe we had many books in our house at all.
But this of course is secondary to the real point. Reading is fundamental. Reading strengthens your vocabulary. It gives you a greater understanding of the world around you, deepens your ability to feel empathy for the others who inhabit it. Reading is better for you than doomscrolling, and a good book beats television every time.
However - and here's a crucial point - does reading actually help if all you read is trash? I don't read trash, or at least I don't think I do - I loved SF as a teenager and thus I do occasionally read it, since old habits are hard to break. I've read a few "BookTok books" in my time, although the romantasy ones have never appealed to me. There are particular publishers I gravitate towards more often than not, many of them small presses, and I am working my way through some of the old masters (though I think Anna Karenina, which I started a few weeks ago, will take me some time to finish). I consider myself well-read, but am I really? I read things that are recommended to me, whether online or in real life. I come into contact with books quite often at work, and they sometimes catch my eye. Lots of these are works in translation, by authors that I have never heard of, whose native languages I could not begin to comprehend.
I think you know where this is going.
I take great pride in reading my forty-ish books a year, but could I extend my goal somehow? With rising climate change, political and social instability in many regions, and a fear of flying and sailing (though the former is worse and more paralysing to me), it is very unlikely that I'll be able to travel the world and see the wonderful sights that other humans have created. We all live on the same planet, don't we? And literature is one of the few things that seems to transcend culture. So, here is my plan -
I realise that deciding which landmasses and arbitary borders actually encapsulate 'countries' is a bit of a controversial question, so I'm going to go by the list given by Worldometer, which specifies the 193 UN member states, as well as the two observer states, those being Palestine and the Holy See. This brings us to a total of 195 countries; ergo, 195 books. I read perhaps forty a year, but this has sometimes been as low as twenty-five in the past, or could even go over forty (although I doubt it). I will also want to read the other things on my to-be-read list, outside the scope of my around-the-world trip. Therefore, I have no idea how long it will take - or even if I will be able to complete this task - but I still want to try.
The best things in life have rules, and if I want any chance of finishing this thing, I need to set some. So - deep breath -
Right, this is where I show myself to be a filthy monolingual, and where I make it even harder for myself than it already needs to be.
I speak and read only English. I am actually learning Japanese, and I studied Spanish during my school years, but my command of both of those languages is childish and simply embarrassing (best evidenced when I ran into a woman who could speak Japanese in a pub once, and to whom - upon being pressed - I could only stammer out the phrase, 'Well, Japanese is pretty hard...'). For this reason, I intend on only reading books that have been translated into English. Yes, I realise that by virtue of translation, some of the original charm, meaning, and significance is lost. I realise that by reading a translation, it's possible that I may completely misinterpret the author's original meaning. However, there are also only so many hours in a day, and I am not prepared to learn Uzbek for the sake of reading one book.
Because I read a lot, and only in English, I inevitably end up reading lots of books by Anglophone authors. However, I am only going to select one book for each country. This is because 195 books is actually quite a few and it's already going to take me just over four and a half years at best (and this if I read 40 books a year and they are all part of my Literature World Tour). One each. That's the best I can do.
When I was originally deciding on how best to approach this, I ran into the natural hurdle of time. Literature, as an art form, is pretty old. Styles and methods and the types of stories, plots, and tropes differ generation by generation. Would it be a fair contrast, for example, to hold up a modern Australian novel to something like, say, The Brothers Karamazov or The Romance of the Three Kingdoms or Don Quixote? Probably not, which is why I have decided that all books must be 20th century or newer. Originally I had thought to do only postwar works, but this gives me only eighty or so years worth of books to pull from, and many countries will not have established-enough literary scenes for this to be fair. 1900 is the oldest I'll go. This leads me onto my fourth and final rule, which is -
(Lauren winces, and grits her teeth).
Okay. This is delicate. There are 195 countries on the list. This probably, without naming any names, includes countries that perhaps some people do not recognise the legitimacy of. There are also countries not on the list that you might think ought to be included. I am not Little Miss UN or the Queen of the World (though I sometimes think I am, or should be). I do not control which countries are considered legit and which aren't. I am just some moron online who likes books. I will be reading one book from each of these countries and commenting on it. That's all. Phew.
Further to this point, the books on the list will come from countries as they are currently understood, in 2025. For example, at the turn of the 20th century, the Korean Peninsula contained one country - Korea - which was later split into two, the Republic of Korea (South) and the Democratic People's Republic of Korea (North). Right now, there are two Koreas. Therefore, there are two books. Similarly, I am prevented from reading something like, say, The Master and Margarita because it was published in the Soviet Union, by a Soviet author. The Soviet Union no longer exists in 2025; therefore, rather than reading a Soviet book, I will read one from each constituent nation of the place once called the USSR. Yes, I am aware that this makes it harder (fifteen whole books harder, to be precise). I do not care. It is my list and my rules and MY THING.
Finally, I have one final flexirule, one that I am tentatively setting (but may will end up being broken):
So I had set this rule for myself originally, not because I think diaspora authors 'don't count' or because I think they have nothing worth saying. I just felt that it was important to read a novel fully steeped in the culture and community in which it was originally set. However, this is going to be challenging for some countries, mostly because of the other rules I've laid out above. So, I am going to aim for books by authors who are born and raised in the country their book is from. However, if I feel that a novel by a diaspora author is suitable, then I will count it. I guess.
And that's it! Those are my arbitrary rules for my silly campaign that I've embarked on. I'm not going to rate the books, necessarily, as I'm not much of a critic. I'm also aware that I may not have the required social and cultural awareness to really comment in-depth on the chosen books. I just think this would be a fun and interesting thing to do. So, wish me luck! Because familiarity is the last refuge of the unimaginative, I have decided to start with Europe (which is where I live). Keep an eye out for the first stop on my Worldwide Book Train - ITALY (I don't live here, but I went to Rome last year and it was really nice, especially the history and the sunshine and the gelato). To be more specific, we're going to Naples, baby. Book #1 is Elena Ferrante's My Brilliant Friend.
Keep an eye out for my comments, whenever I get round to it. Until next time!