I've always felt like an underachiever as a reader when measured by volume. Twenty years ago, I confessed my slow reading habits in a blog post about ARCs ("I'm Reading as Fast as I Can!!"), noting that although I had increased my reading speed somewhat--out of professional necessity--during the first 13 years I'd been a frontline bookseller, I still felt like a biblio-laggard.
Strangely, though, "my customers think I'm a reading machine," I wrote then. "They will sometimes ask, with unmasked awe, 'How many books do you read per week?' It's as if they think I've become some kind of Electrolux, devouring pages as fast as they come off the printing press. The truth is more mundane....
"Often I have three, four, or five books going at once, and continue to cast my eyes with hunger and longing at the endless stream of new and tempting titles that come across my desk. And I often just graze, reading 50 pages and bailing if I'm not fully engaged. Nevertheless, the stack on my desk continues to grow at a pace that outstrips my ability to keep up. I seem to look for reasons not to continue reading, reasons to give myself a break and move on to the next title."
I've never been one of those readers who sets yearly goals or meticulously catalogues the books I've read. Before I became a bookseller, I was practically monogamous when I read. I could spend a month with a book, six months with a particular author. The pages of my books were covered with marginalia. I lived in them for long periods, then moved on, as if walking a long, narrow path rather than driving an interstate highway."
So it was with a long-gestating mixture of awe and humility that I recently learned about the extraordinary reading life of Dan Pelzer, who died at the age of 92 on July 1. He logged all 3,599 of the books he had read since 1962, when "he first began jotting his reads down on his language class work sheets while stationed in Nepal with the Peace Corps, to 2023, when his eyesight failed him and he could no longer read," the New York Times reported.
Most of his books came from the Whitehall Branch of the Columbus, Ohio, Metropolitan Library, which posted on Facebook a message from his daughter, Marci Pelzer, who noted, in part: "Nobody loved the library more than Dan. When we were little, he took us to the downtown library every Saturday morning and enrolled us in every summer reading program. He was a regular at the Livingston and then Whitehall branches until he could no longer read. I'm sure he would be among your highest circulation and longest term borrowers."
She had considered printing his reading list to distribute at the funeral, but it was too long and ultimately she asked her godson create a website featuring What Dan Read, a digitiized version of the handwritten list that guests could access through a QR code on the back of the funeral program.
The library has since created book displays in his honor at the Whitehall Branch and at Main Library. Lauren Hagan, CEO of the Columbus Metropolitan Library, said a team of about six people at the library were re-creating Pelzer's list online so that it could be used by other patrons.
What Dan Read has since gone viral. Recently, Marci Pelzer told WBNS: "You know, I just keep thinking about how crazy it is that we've spread the list to so many people. Our intention was to hand it out at his funeral. Then, we got the idea to have a QR code. Then, I put it on LinkedIn and it kind of took off and then when the library got a hold of it, it just went crazy.... It's amazing. It's like the dialogue with him about books can continue indefinitely and spread around the globe."
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| At the Columbus Library | |
In 2006, a Columbus Dispatch feature explored Dan Pelzer's devotion to reading, noting that he "was making his way through roughly 80 books a year. He had recently read James Joyce's Ulysses, and he wasn't afraid to tell the journalist what he really thought. 'The worst,' he said. 'Pure torture.' " Still, Pelzer finished reading the classic novel because he finished reading every book he started. "Even the books that were dogs, he would slog through to the final page," the Dispatch noted.
When I wrote that blog post mentioned above in 2005, I had just returned home from BookExpo, where I had once again been showered with gifts in the form of ARCs and "now, a new mound of guilt towers above me at this desk. I did not grab them off stacks on a mad locust tour of the show floor. These were nearly all given to me personally by publishers, editors, or authors, who each time handed me the most precious gift they had to give: their work, their life, their hope. I do not have a vested interest in any of the titles that come my way until I read and love them."
I asked myself then: "When will I read all these galleys? Can I read them all? Will I read yours? Maybe, maybe not. But, rest assured that, within the considerable limitations of my ability, time, and attention span, I'll be reading as fast as I can."
I'm no Dan Pelzer though.