“Personally, I am a hedonistic reader; I have never read a book merely because it was ancient. I read books for the aesthetic emotions they offer me…” – Jorge Luis Borges
Sorry for re-using an epigraph, it was just so appropriate. Hey, quick note: in two weeks, I’m gonna be in Los Angeles for AWP. If you want to hang, hit me up. If you are putting on a reading and need a stoned nature poet, hit me up. Here’s a demo reel of poems, in Moist Poetry Journal, The Rumen, and Kicking Your Ass.
You might know that I’m a dad. Being a dad, I like to lead by example as much as possible. It seems good, to me, if my six-year-old sees me reading a book, or cooking. I don’t curse in front of my kid, etc etc. Then again, being a writer, I know that there are times when showing isn’t quite enough. Sometimes, you gotta spell things out. For instance, when the U.S. Government is taken over by Klansmen and neo-Nazis and South African racists and Christian Fascists, and they want to erase everything in this country that isn’t lily-white and in line. That seems like a time to stand up and be counted among those who believe that all humans are equal, that racism and classism and casteism and homophobia and transphobia and ableism and hate of any kind has no place in society. As Grant Hill says, “[homophobia] is not creative, and you’re better than that.”
The last ten years have proven most of the country understands less than the average six-year-old. So I’m going to write a column I never wanted to write, because it feels like gold star-chasing. But here goes: a little note about my reading schedule, and why I think it’s important to read books by a diverse group of authors. I also think it is important to read books by a diverse group of authors with intentionality. This column isn’t meant to be stat-keeping. I’m not trying to be Five Thirty-Eight and sabremetrics my reading. More like, I’m trying to prevent myself from waking up one day like “holy shit every book I read for the last year was by a straight person.”
This blog was born in November 2022. The whole “read a book a week and blog about it on Friday” started sometime around February 2023. The idea occurred to me that I should read some Black authors, since it was Black History Month. Towards the end of the month, I realized March was Women’s History Month. Seemed like something I should also do, read women in March. I don’t see myself as having a problem forgetting to read Black or women writers—many of my favorites, as the ancient white guy proverb goes. But when May rolled around, AAPI month, I realized that maybe I should codify my schedule somewhat. It’s really easy to get in patterns when you read, and for me at least, it’s easy to chase shiny new objects. Maybe best explained this way:
So here’s what I do: January is a free month, but I like to think of it as tone-setting for the year. February is Black History Month. March is Women’s History Month. April is National Poetry Month. May is AAPI month (I will read writers from the Middle East and Indian subcontinent during this month, too). June is Pride Month.
July is a free month, but I like to read at least one “environmental” book, and I usually make the books I read that month about water somehow.
August and September are free months, October is horror month, and November is Noirvember (not a government designation). Now, November is also Indigenous history month, and Hispanic Heritage Month is weirdly September 15-October 15. My rule is I have to get at least four Latine authors and four Indigenous authors in sometime between August and November.
December is a free month. Usually any lingering obsessions, or an excuse to re-read favorites. December is also my birthday month, so I treat myself—Aimee Bender or Gabo is highly likely to show up in December.
Is this perfect? No. I’m Protestant, I never feel like I do enough. I don’t feel like I read enough, period, let alone setting aside time for, say, neurodivergent writers, or trans writers specifically, or African writers, or Central and Eastern European writers. Lumping every Indigenous group from the Inupiat to the Mánekenk and everywhere in-between into one “Indigenous” category is incredibly reductive. Lumping every Central and South American writer into one “Latine” category is incredibly reductive. I don’t set aside time for Caribbean writers, even though I love Caribbean writers and culture, I just kind of try to get some in there. This system isn’t perfect, nor are my reading habits. Again, I’m not saying all this for some “good white guy” gold star. But I do like doing things with intentionality, and I like to expand my reading habits. This practice does, for instance, force me to think differently when I’m trawling the AWP book fair. That’s a good thing.
The reason to read books by diverse authors is because the world is big. Also, I’m betting you’re reading this in the U.S. (or maybe U.K. or Canada) and therefore need to be conscious of the fact that you are part of The Empire, by birth. You therefore want to expand your thinking, because narrow thinking is a death sentence. There is so much to be enjoyed and experienced, so much commonality to unite us. There’s also so much difference that we never have to get bored with each other. Baldwin says that reading connects us, that
“You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, who had ever been alive. Only if we face these open wounds in ourselves can we understand them in other people.”
It is incredibly important to open your brain to the world beyond your own house. Remember that six-year-old I mentioned up top, the one I’m mostly responsible for? Mallory and I asked him what he learned about in school yesterday. The literal first thing he said was “it’s Women’s History Month.” I asked if he learned about Susan B. Anthony, who, when I was growing up, was a classic “alright, kids, the county says you have to learn women are people this month” historical figure.
“No,” he said. “Ruby Bridges.”
Sorry you got an email,
Chris