Promise, by Jackie Kay
Remember, the time of year
when the future appears
like a blank sheet of paper
a clean calendar, a new chance.
On thick white snow
You vow fresh footprints
then watch them go
with the wind’s hearty gust.
Fill your glass. Here’s tae us. Promises
made to be broken, made to last.
It is 7:14pm on New Year’s Day and I have already cracked.
I have bought a book.
Actually, I have bought two books.
Truthfully, I could have bought three. Or four. Or fifteen. But I do have a scrap of self-restraint, and I haven’t won the lottery yet.
I had made a New Year’s resolution to read more of the books I have, and not just keep buying new ones. I succeeded for less than one day.
In my defence, one of the books was ‘Sherlock Holmes and the Kent Railways’ by Kelvin Jones. This book combines one of my favourite literary characters and the place I write about, so it’s technically research material, not a frivolous purchase.
The other book was a signed copy of ‘The Bottle Factory Outing’ by Beryl Bainbridge, which has been on my to-read list for ages and it was only £6.99, so a total bargain. OK, fine, I did not need that one. But in mitigation, I did buy this and the Sherlock Holmes one from the Oxfam online shop, so I was supporting charity with my purchases.
I realise I sound like an addict trying to justify my actions and reassure you that I don’t have a serious book-collecting problem.
That’s because I don’t have a problem with collecting books. I can stop collecting books any time I want to.
Except I can’t. Because when it comes to books, I am Gollum from Lord of the Rings and books are my Precious. That’s how I have ended up with a whole spare room full of books in my house. I may have little self-restraint when it comes to buying books, but I am at least self-aware.
I can’t dignify the state of the spare room by suggesting it is any sort of library. It looks more like a mini version of the warehouse at the end of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. But here’s the ridiculous thing. Despite having all these lovely books, I only read seven books last year. I was given – and I bought – way more than seven.
There is a word for this in Japanese – tsundoku – which roughly translates as “letting reading materials pile up without reading them.” A concept so relatable it physically hurts. I am a living embodiment of tsundoku.
It’s not that I don’t want to read the books I have. I do. I really, really do. Once upon a time, I actually did read more books than I bought. When I worked in London, I would read on my commute – basically two hours of reading time each day. You plough through stories when you commute from Medway to London, let me tell you! Those were also the halcyon days when my local library was open until 7pm, so I could pick up and drop off books on my way home after work.
But I’ve learned that life has a habit of getting in the way of good intentions. It can knock you for six with unfortunate events. Covid. Burnout. Bereavements. Tory cuts to council funding (goodbye, 7pm library closing time). Recovery from burnout. Work stress. Sometimes several of these things occur at once, and before you know it, you’re knackered and in a reading slump. When that happens, even if you love reading, the act of choosing a book, concentrating on the words and reading to the end can feel like a colossal challenge – a challenge as immense as climbing Everest. In the worst case scenario, reading can go from being a comfort and a joy to feeling like just another draining chore on an endless to-do list. I speak from experience, because I’ve been trying to claw my way up from the bottom of a cavernous reading slump for some time.
(Not enough of a reading slump to stop me acquiring books, mind you…)
When I was a little girl back home in Gateshead, one of my favourite activities was reading a mystery book while eating chocolate or biscuits and drinking a cup of tea. That little girl would have been delighted to have heaps of books upstairs, and bewildered that so many of them hadn’t been read yet. She would have been baffled that a person could even have such a thing as a reading slump.
But who wants to stay stuck in a slump? Not me. And what better time to un-slump than “the time of year when the future appears like a blank sheet of paper, a clean calendar, a new chance”, as Jackie Kay says in one of my favourite poems?
I’m not going to resolve to not buy or borrow any new books, because a) that’s clearly doomed to fail and b) having thought about it, I think resolutions shouldn’t be about depriving yourself – they should bring you joy. There’s plenty of difficulty and gloom in life already. I don’t need to make it harder by banishing the everyday glimmers, like visiting a much-loved bookshop or perusing the ‘new books’ shelf at the library. But I will try to show a little more self-restraint – or if you like, shelf-restraint – and read more of the books that I already have. A promise not to collect new books is a promise made to be broken. But a promise to read more books in general? That feels like a promise made to last.
So, this year I’m resolving to rekindle my reading spark. The spare room contains plenty of books about Kent, or related to Kent in some way, so I’ll write about those ones on this blog. I’ll also publish the full list of what I read in 2025 in a post in January 2026. That makes you, dear reader, my accountability buddy – because after all, it will be embarrassing if I don’t manage to read more books now, won’t it? But I hope I’ll help you find some new books, authors and Kent connections along the way.
Here’s my reading pile for January and February. Looks exciting, doesn’t it?
- Heads You Lose by Christianna Brand
- Killing Time by Alan Bennett
- Whitstable Pearl by Julie Wassmer
- Kairos by Jenny Erpenbeck
- The Bottle Factory Outing by Beryl Bainbridge
- Accidental Darlings by Crystal Jeans
- Tales of Forgotten Kent by Malcolm Horton
Wish me luck! And if you find me scrolling my phone, binge-watching Netflix or otherwise brain-rotting, stop me and shove a book into my hands.
*Cracks knuckles*
*Makes a cup of Yorkshire tea*
*Sits comfortably*
*Starts a new book*
What’s on your reading pile for 2025? Tell me in the comments!