Bookstore Panic Disorder

There is a special kind of anxiety that I get at book stores and libraries. I get this feeling almost nowhere else, and I really have to refocus myself so that it does not paralyze me completely. I am talking about BPD - Bookstore Panic Disorder.

Last weekend my fiancees dad was in town. He informed us of his intention to buy us books with a gift certificate he had to Strand Books here in NYC. Strand is, at least by my standards, a very nice place. They have new books, used books, rare books, etc. It is always extremely crowded, and it always feels a little exciting to walk in.

But I felt a powerful sense of dread. This happens every time I am in one of these places. I get a kind of anxiety that seems inexplicable. I begin to freak out, I become indecisive, confused, even a little sweaty. That's when I know my BPD is kicking in.

I get this feeling when I look at tables filled with history books, autobiographies, books about foreign affairs, and all sorts of non-fiction. How can there be this much knowledge? How can anyone have the time to absorb all of this information? How will I keep a job when I commit myself to reading ALL of these books?

Then I turn around and I look at the fiction. I remember that I don't read enough fiction - meaning I have told myself that I ought to read more fiction. I worry that I have not read enough of the classics, or that there are so many foreign writers whose work has been translated so that I may read their stories. I think about all the current literature that's out there, that I should be reading. WILL I EVER READ IT ALL?

At this point I have to calm myself down. I remind myself that I read for two reasons:

1. For pleasure - I like reading. It makes me happy, simple as that.
2. To learn - I want to know more, and reading offers me that opportunity.

I have to remember that I will probably never know all that there is to know. About anything. I have to remind myself that as long as I am enjoying myself, that's all that matters - there is no required reading list in life.

I suppose that it is a good thing that this is what brings me anguish. So many people in the US simply don't read. So many people look at reading as a chore, something to be done only when forced.

I suppose that it's also ok to admit that some books suck. I tried to read Moby Dick because I read that it was great. Someone else made me believe I needed to have that experience. Ultimately, I did not care for that experience. I was bored. Sometimes a book is not what you want, even if it universally accepted as a "must-read."

Ultimately, we walked away with a half-dozen new books. Thus far, I have resisted the temptation to begin any of these while my lengthy book on WWII remains unfinished. I have my work cut out for me, though.

I think I may not have enough real problems in my life.