Half Done?

Books.
Stacks of books.
Strewn stacks of books, threatening to suffocate the undone laundry, picked up, perused intensely but for a moment, tossed down and forgotten as the phone rings...

My reading has been really sloppy lately. I pick up a book, read it for a bit, and put it down to go do something else; when I come back, I'm just as likely to pick something entirely different up. Worst of all, I've been skipping around in the same books and not putting them away when I finish, languishing in some re-reading purgatory. The small rotation of books in my bedroom skews eclectic (Watchmen-Florida Herbs and Herb Gardens-The Order of Things eclectic) and haphazard, even for me. I'd like to pretend this is some aberrant stage in my reading life, that I was once an orderly consumer of books, but it's a lie. Many of my friends read voraciously; in addition, I read omnivorously, not so much like a man bringing a five-course dinner to its intended telos as a man discovering the all-you-can-eat buffet for the first time.

Thinking to tame the beast, I set out to order my liber-al life by means of a reading journal, a blog with the three-pronged purpose of making me finish books, start new ones after that, and refine some writing skills while I'm at it. It made the most sense to set out with a list of books, to keep things moving along. I painted grand pictures in my head of one insignificant man's encounter with the Great Books of All Time list, a journey epic in scope and brilliant in juxtaposing the authoritative list of the editors and the noble prose of the authors with the subjective ramblings of the reader. One problem.

I couldn't find a list I liked. Seriously, do you believe that there were 100 great American novels written in the 20th century? How seriously could you take a poll that put the entire Harry Potter, Ayn Rand, or L. Ron Hubbard canon in the topmost slots?

Granted, I was being entirely too picky, but the vision in my head just couldn't be satisfied--echos of an undergraduate writing career--and I decided to strike out entirely on my own.

So for a theme, I'll be taking a journey back in time through the 20th century, one year and one book at a time.

Come with? I'm not looking, at least not at first, to say anything significant or grand about what I read; the idea for reading is simple progress, and for writing, steady practice. I'd be happy to authorize another user on the journey. If you want, you could read the same books, different ones, or even start in 1901 and work your way toward me in 2000.

Don't sweat saying no; I know the project is pretty crazy. Even just a regular glance at my ramblings or an occasional comment would be fantastically encouraging.

A thousand thanks to everyone on Facebook who jumped in and wrestled with my crazy list of lists and criteria and general self-contradiction. Y'all are the best!