(~4 minutes to read)
Recently, I’ve taken to reading more than one book at a time. In a two-storey house with a developed basement in which I sleep in the upper storey and work in the basement, it makes sense—I can keep one book in the basement bathroom and another in our bedroom.
What I should do though, is to ensure that I’m not reading books whose contents could get co-mingled in my head. I learned this the hard way while simultaneously reading Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations and Christopher Moore’s The Serpent of Venice.
Both books contain characters named Pocket. Great Expectations is a classic; The Serpent of Venice is based on two or three classics (two of Shakespeare’s plays and a short story by Edgar Allan Poe). From a 21st century perspective, both books are set in the historical past (GE in the early 19th Century; Serpent in the year 1299). The backdrop for both books is (or was) marshland. Both books deal with revenge and have the protagonist moving in circles above their stations in life. Both books were immensely enjoyable.
The problem I found was in the diametrically opposed tone and morals of the two works. For example, Dickens does not have Pip and Estella “exploring” each other, and Wemmick’s advances to his fiancée were limited to attempting to put his arm around her waist, whereas Moore doesn’t dance around the “earthier” action—he’s happy to mention shagging and nakedness and indulging in that kind of self-abuse which is guaranteed to make a person go blind.
This left me confusedly wondering if Herbert Pocket was going to take Clara back to his place for a bit of slap and tickle, or if Joe and Biddy were whiling away the long nights in pursuits that Pip’s sister would not have approved of. It also occasionally made me gasp at the audacity and immorality of some of the characters in The Serpent of Venice. (Although I must confess, they were gasps of pleasure…)
Having visited Venice less than three years ago, the atmosphere of some of the places mentioned in the book was fresh enough in my mind to recall, and I was able to peel away the heaving masses of tourists in order to imagine the Venice that Pocket (aka Lancelot Gobbo) was moving around in. Unfortunately, the gondolas in my imagination were black and gleaming; I suspect they are a more recent development.
Having lived in Greater London for the first twenty-three years of my life, some of the places in GE were known to me too, and the general atmosphere of the marshland where Pip grew up is not unfamiliar to me either, having spent time in the less built-up parts of both Kent and Norfolk.
The writing styles of Dickens and Moore were probably what allowed me to keep the two stories as separated as I did. Dickens is wordy, heavily descriptive, loaded with (unnecessary?) punctuation marks, and no doubt painstakingly correct in regard to the rules of grammar and word usage of his time. Moore’s writing is much more accessible; his imagery is strong enough (for my taste), his attention to grammar and punctuation is meticulous enough (for my level of pedantry) and his dialogue is natural and comfortable.
When I’d finished Serpent, I dug out a second copy of Great Expectations (I inherited my mum’s books and didn’t discard duplicates), put one in the basement and one in the bedroom, and attempted to keep track of where I was, so I could continue from that point in “the other copy”. This was more or less successful, although my basement bathroom time was frequently extended so that I could both locate my place and actually read a few paragraphs.
Some might suggest that I should embrace e-books more than I do, so that I could read the same book on multiple devices and have my bookmark synchronized across devices. This would obviate the need to read multiple books simultaneously.
Good suggestion, chaps and chapesses.
Yes, I have a Kobo—I read Serpent on it. Yes, I find it convenient in some ways. But the network control panels are a huge pain to use, and leaving the network enabled sucks the life out of the battery ten or more times faster than reading books does. Paging back to find something is clumsy and frustrating, and bookmarks aren’t as easily set, unset, and moved as the old-school version.
Finally, I’m one of those people that like the smell of old books. Get me a Kobo that can reproduce that smell and I’ll convert in a heartbeat!
In the meantime, I’ll continue reading multiple books. Right now, I have two very different books on the go (Dickens’ Hard Times and a book that, as far as I know, sets out to explain how the psychology of warfare has changed, increasing the prevalence of PTSD), so there should be no problems keeping them separated. But until Kobo gets that smell perfected, I’ll be choosing my simultaneous reads a little more carefully.
Your Turn
Do you read multiple books simultaneously? If so, why? Do you select carefully to avoid confusion? If you don’t read multiple books simultaneously, why not? Do you have an e-reader? Which do you prefer—real books or e-readers? What are your reasons? Do you like the smell of old books? Let the world know by leaving a comment.