State of Reading 2024

I finished 33 books this year, 4 of them rereads. I notice that I ended 4 out of the last 5 years with Reflections on Silver River. It was not intentional. Something about the end of the year and the beginning of a new one calls me to that book. Is it the promise of being a better person or the reminder of what is important (hint: the practice, always the practice)? Beats me. My other re-reads were Narada Bhakti Sutra and Awake at the Wheel. All are religion or religion-adjacent books. I almost never re-read any other kind. I know I remember much less of these books anyway, and I want to internalize what they are saying. It has not happened yet. Something about them is slippery, and I can never recall the main points when I need to.

Seven biographies. More than usual, though none I would regret spending time with. The one I enjoyed the most was Brock Yates’s Ferrari. It’s a crash course on the history of racing and the Italian middle class experience of the 20th century. Enzo Ferrari won by just out-surviving his competition, an essential trick that all successful start-ups must master. Just don’t die. I also liked Robert Gottlieb’s book. Gottlieb represented the who’s who of the twentieth-century popular literature, from Rushdie to John le Carré, so there’s a lot of juicy gossip about the book publishing world. My takeaway is that if you enjoy what you are doing - and there’s a lot of luck involved in stumbling into a career you are meant for - nothing ever seems like hard work. Gottlieb and Ferrari worked right till they died. There’s no such thing as a retirement when you are having fun, and before you know it, you have had a career. I also learnt from Gottlieb that it’s important to be a problem solver or be seen as one. That opened doors for him, including to the New York City Ballet and becoming a fixer for Irene Selznick’s family.

I finally read The Sun Also Rises. The last Hemingway I read was around 17 years ago, For Whom the Bell Tolls, back in college. This is the sort of book I would have enjoyed back then, or even early into my career. A bunch of drunks in love with the original manic pixie girl. At this point in time, it just seems sad to me, although I am sure it would have ruined my life if I had discovered it earlier. The only other fiction I read worth mentioning would be Elmore Leonard. I have to admit that he’s a master. Rum Punch was a damn good caper.

As far as insights per page is concerned, the most rewarding book this year has been Smoke and Ashes. Want to know about why the Marwaris moved to Calcutta? The diverging fates of Calcutta and Bombay? The palaces and forts that the Marathas left behind in central India and how they were funded? The Opium Wars? The persistence of elites in America and the opioid crisis? Ghosh loops through all that and more. I try to capture some of it here in my notes on the book.

I read a few technical books at the beginning of the year. I want to read a lot more, and the only reason I don’t is because technical ebooks are damn expensive, and the cutting-edge stuff is on arXiv or blogs.

Is there any book I wish I hadn’t read? No, because I abandon books I don’t wish to read. I did not complete a few, although it looks like I will revisit the Machiavelli book again. It was not bad, it just wasn’t the right time.

There are many books I wish I had read this year. I want to read a lot more history. I want to read a lot more technical books. I want to work through Aurobindo and Vedanta Desika. There are Chip Hyuen's books. Matthew Crawford. Nilakanta Sastri. Sanjay Subramanyam.

I cannot tell if reading makes me happy. It is just that I cannot imagine another state of being. I am unable to recall now a moment in my early childhood when I did not read. Today with Kindle and iBooks, it’s even easier to be always in the middle of a book, never in between them.

I have regretted wasting time on video games. It causes me enormous grief to think about all the time I spend on Twitter and Reddit. I do not have the same amount of heartburn when I take stock of my reading habit, even when I read trash. Once I hoped all this reading would be of use someday. I would be lying if I said I don’t anymore, but I have also come to accept that I would continue to read even if it had no utility at all.

It just is. Like breathing.