The other day I attended a workshop in connection with my day job. There I learned that Danish women in my age group only read 1.4 books a year, and those 1.4 books are crime novels. They don’t have time to read novels. Apparently, they are too busy with jobs, children and sleep.
I don’t fit in there bookwise. And my inner teenager is wildly protesting the age group. I too have job, children and sometimes I even sleep, but I read more than 1.4 books, and about five years ago I did read a couple of Camilla Läckberg’s crime novels, but that’s about it.
I don’t devour books such as some of the people I follow on Twitter, Facebook and blogs. I can’t understand how it is possible to read 3-4 books at the same time. Doesn’t it get confusing? But I read. And more then 1.4 a year. Here’s a list of what I’ve read this year so far (not a crime novel in sight – must mean I’m in the wrong age group – right? RIGHT?):
There are even a few that I had to put away again. Not because I didn’t like them – they just weren’t right right now. I’ve picked up books years after I’ve abandoned them after the first few chapters, and I’ve loved them. Strange, that. Others have remained on the shelf, though.