on phases

I was organising my new shelves (photos to come soon, for those of you who are like me and immediately perk up at the mention or sight of books) earlier and it struck me just how many phases I’ve had throughout my young life as a reader. I brought up quite a few books (about four armfuls) from one of the parlours downstairs, where they’ve been sitting untouched for years, hidden behind other books that aren’t mine. I’d forgotten all about them. I can’t believe I’ve read them, really. I can’t believe I once had such a varied and such a modern reading experience; of course, I was only beginning to read seriously and was finding out what I did and didn’t like, but… wow.

In 2005, I was in love with Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Arthur Miller, and Ethan Frome. I loved Ayn Rand, Friedrich Nietzsche, and Arthur Schopenhauer in 2006; later in the year, I was fascinated by Shakespeare’s tragedies, Marlowe, Elizabethan literature in general, and anything having to do with Plantagenet kings. In early 2007, I liked Greek tragedies, Byron, Shelley, Goethe, Wilde, and Shakespeare’s comedies and Roman plays; later in that year, I was into the poetry of T.S. Eliot, Seamus Heaney, Thomas Merton, Federico Garcia Lorca, and Sylvia Plath, and this trilogy of historical novels (medieval) about Welsh princes by Sharon K. Penman. In 2008, I didn’t read much, but delved into a bunch of random subjects—probably my least favourite year as a reader, though I did read and love Brave New World and metaphysical poetry.  Oh, and I was still obsessed with Christopher Marlowe and read far too many books about him, reread his plays, etc. In 2009, I read aimlessly until I discovered Victorian fiction, most notably Hardy. In 2010, I read Victorian poetry like a fiend and went on a Chekhov spree.

I've always mixed up my reading with nonfiction, fiction, drama, and poetry, and even now, when I restrict what I read by date, I still won't read only books from any one era, author, genre, etc. Of course, I go through phases related to my favourite whim of the time, but, looking over my shelves and reading logs from ages past, I'm surprised at the strange things I picked up between fixations; it shocks me to think I once read authors such as Nabokov, Eco, Rilke, Conrad, and Marquez! Heck, my entire bookshelf shocks me, as do my old fixations. I must've seemed odd at seventeen, always carrying around those ragged copies of Faust and The Collected Plays of Christopher Marlowe, both of which broke in half from too much love. I didn't realise until today how much I've actually read over the years, although I am nowhere near as well-read as I could and should be.

Did you go through any phases? What were they? How long did they last? What are you into now? Do you still read the kind of books you read when you first started reading seriously?