My Grandfather Heitman died in 1930, and he was gone many years before I was born. Even so, he continued to live in family stories, including memories of the books he read. Among his favorites, we were told, were Robert Louis Stevenson’s “Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes” and “Quo Vadis,” a sweeping historical novel about ancient Rome written by Polish author Henryk Sienkiewicz.
My grandfather’s life as a farmer kept him mostly in Louisiana throughout his life, but he was, in the family lore, something of an armchair traveler. That Stevenson travelogue and Sienkiewicz’s saga of empire offer a window into my grandfather’s preoccupations.
We are what we read, it seems, or at least we might be, which is why I made a New Year’s resolution back in January to record every book I read this year as a way to learn about myself.
Some readers find various apps handy for tracking the books that come and go through their lives, but I decided to use a beautifully monogrammed journal my daughter gave me for Christmas.
I felt sheepish about making such an easy New Year’s resolution. What could be simpler than writing down every book I read? I decided not to record books I don’t finish, but beyond that, my plan looked pretty straightforward.
I’m realizing, though, that my reading life is more complicated that I had thought. As a journalist, I do a lot of assigned reading, tackling books I might not otherwise undertake. Do they warrant another category in my reading journal, a list apart from what I read just for fun?
As part of a volunteer gig at a local school, my wife reads books to small children, and I sometimes help her pick out titles by scouting out a few kids’ books, too. I’ve really enjoyed Margaret Renkl’s “The Weedy Garden” this year, as well as Anca Sandu Budisan’s beautifully illustrated “The Home We Dreamed.”
Is it cheating to add those to my list of books I read this year, even if I finished them in just a few minutes?
I’ve also been thinking about my five-volume set of Virginia Woolf’s diaries, which has been part of my reading routine for years now. I keep at least one volume of the diaries on my nightstand, dipping in at random before I go to sleep. I doubt I’ll ever know when or if I’ve finished reading them, but they’re old friends by now and seem to deserve a mention.
What I’m coming to understand is that my reading journal isn’t meant to show others how much I’ve read. Like a tourist savoring snapshots, I just want to look back at the end of the year and see where my life in books has taken me.
I’ll continue to experiment with what works best for me, and at the end of the year, I’ll tell you how I’ve done.
Email Danny Heitman at danny@dannyheitman.com.