Oops. My Inner-Reader's a Dick...

It's only Eurovision keeping
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So much happened last Friday, didn't it. January 31st 2020. Cast your mind back, if you can even bear it. Did you wave your cheap Union Jacks with the worst of them, or did you force yourself away from the racist hole of social media? Were you bulk-buying your celebratory tea towels or instead compiling the pro-EU charities to whom you'll donate your Oxford comma-less 50ps. Either way, it was an odd day. Not all odd though. It was also the day that my newsletter dropped into subscribers inboxes. How marvellously fortuitous for those discerning people. A drop of fun-filled nonsense in a sea of political turmoil and worry. 

My newsletter is free for all; just subscribe in the box at the top of this blog. It contains several rounds-ups of the month just gone, including one where I list three things I've read. Originally I meant 'three books' but it soon became clear that three books a month was never going to happen. Instead, over time, I've included Guardian long-reads, interesting Twitter threads, or - as happened in December when my reading time was squeezed to the bare minimum - Nigella's recipe for 24-hour ham. Reading. It takes many forms.

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But then I got my Kindle. I've talked about my previous misgivings of the device before, and by clicking here you can read all about them again. Lucky you! My main issue - that I don't want bricks and mortar bookshops to lose the sale I would have otherwise made - still stands. I decided to only download books I would not have ordinarily bought. That means, when the long-awaited Marian Keyes book, Grown Ups, hits the shops this week, I'll buy it from a real building. Most likely Waterstones in Liverpool. When LC Rosen's Camp is released later in the year, I'll be emailing Gay's the Word in London and ordering a copy from their actual shop. If I still purchase the books I'd have made the effort to buy in the past, from the real life places I'd have got them from, then I can sleep easy. Sleep easy with my Kindle next to my head as I explore all the books I would have let pass me by, without it. It seems a fair deal. 

With these rules in place, I was good to go. I had the whole of January and a Kindle at my disposal. Was I going to manage three whole books this month? Was my newsletter going to be fleshed out with literature rather than recipes and articles? Reader, let me tell you. Over the course of January 2020, I read seven novels, one play, and a screenplay to boot. I know. I surprised myself.

Just for public record, here's what my January reading looked like. In case you were wondering what constitutes 'books I would have let pass me by'.

• The Expats by Chris Pavone
• Conclave by Robert Harris
• Sunshine Cruise Company by John Niven
• Unexpected Guest by Agatha Christie
• Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand (freely adapted by Martin Crimp)
• The Fifth Risk by Michael Lewis
• First Draft of Book Three by Nicky Bond 
• Catch and Kill by Ronan Farrow
• Jojo Rabbit by Taika Waititi

It's an eclectic mix. Ignoring my own inclusion right off the bat (I know it's self-indulgent but it took a day to read and therefore takes a rightful place in my reading list) there are some interesting points to note.

Firstly, I don't think I've read a play in years. Probably not since Uni. Yet in one month, I've not only branched out into plays, but screenplays too. KAPOW. What's that? Oh, just my reading world exploding in technicolour all around me. It's so colourful.* Then there's the mix of fiction and non-fiction. Lengthy tomes alongside the short and sweet. The humorous tale of a middle-aged women's gangster gang is listed with a screenplay about life in Nazi Germany. An investigative reporter's book on the building of the case against Harvey Weinstein features next to an outline of the ways the US government is removing the expertise at the heart of its core. Eclectic mix is bang on. Or is it?

Messy but tangible.
More overtly feminist and gay
friendly than my digital choices.

The last observation that jumps out is less positive. Taking my own name (me and my pesky ego) and Agatha's out if it, it's all a bit bloke-heavy. I have no problem with any of the individual male writers I've listed. Many of their books blew me away and made me realise I'd have missed out if I hadn't given them a go. (Ronan Farrow's Catch and Kill feels particularly important right now, and John Niven's filth-laden tweets always skewer the aspects of society that are most abhorrent. These are the good guys and they're writing good things.) But as a reading list, it's a bit short on the ladies. It's also mostly white and straight. Bugger. Is my inner-reader a racist, misogynist, homophobe? I really hope not.

As I delve deep to find my unconscious biases (of which there are many because that's society, folks) I'm feeling quite touchy about my reading choices. Is this simply the power of the patriarchy once again? When I open up my reading sensibilities to a wider audience, do I only notice the mens? I'm not sure. When I look at the paperbacks that fill my bookshelves, the straight, white, men are less visible. Basically I read straight women and gay men. That's the trend amongst my tangible books. The ones I can pick up and flick through. The ones that I make the effort for and that I've refused to let pass me by. I suppose it stands to reason that when I open my reading-self up to the books that come a rung lower on my personal pecking order, then it's a whole other demographic. It's just a bit galling that it's the mainstream instead of the less represented, that I've chosen.

So, where does this leave me? Well, it's been an interesting thought exercise. It's made me realise no matter what format my reading material comes in, it's still quite narrow. My Kindle might have made powering through books much easier, but that doesn't benefit me if I'm reading stuff from the same viewpoint all the time. But look, this is early days. It's been one month. And in that month, I've noticed a few things. Now it's February, I get to build a whole new reading list. This time, however, I'm going to do it with a bit more consciousness.

Have a lovely week, folks.

*Not literally, obviously. The black and white screen tends to reduce judging the book by its cover, somewhat.