This memoir caught my eye at a recent trip to the library, and I couldn't resist the chance to delve into the experiences of a so-called "passionate reader". Well, 41 pages later (I tried, but it became a dreaded chore to even try and make it to 50!) the book fell out of my hands as I slipped into a coma.
I can't imagine how anyone could find this book interesting, to be honest. I hate to use such damning words, but there it is. So Many Books, So Little Time amounts to little more than the stream-of-consciousness of an obsessively self-analytical person with very few original thoughts. I am sure Sara Nelson is a nice person; in fact, I think she and I could probably find quite a bit to talk about if we ever sat down together to discuss books. The problem is that in this book she comes across as unrelentingly dull. I can tell her strength is as a book reviewer; the few glimmers of high-quality writing in here are the paragraphs she devotes to summarizing and describing the books she has read. In between, though, there's little to recommend this book. Nelson fails to make me care about her project to read a book a week for a year; she does not say anything terribly interesting or thought-provoking when she rambles on for paragraph after paragraph about why she reads, why other people read, how she reads, how she chooses her books, how she discusses books with her husband, the history of herself as a reader, blah blah blah.