You can tell a lot about a person by their bookshelf. What's embarrassing about mine is that I never finished reading 83 of the books in it.Here's all of them in a spreadsheet. It's both a sobering reality check and a reading plan. The idea is to read through it one row at a time, left to right, one title a week. The genres are spread out so it's a different experience per book as much as possible. Breadth over depth.
At first I thought of doing a deep-dive into books that would expand my understanding of sociology. This was pretty short-sighted considering how my interests and the way they manifest in my life are always changing. Each one of these books topped my priority list at one point or another because of things that came and went in my life. I'm interested in all of them. Besides, I'm not going to last on the depth plan. One serious book after another would be too repressing and I'm already repressed in more ways than one.
Assuming everything goes well, I'll finish the spreadsheet by March 2021. It's sobering to know it'll take me a year and a half to read all the paperbacks I've hoarded, but that's not what woke me up. It was the precarious piles on my work desk. The pell mell on my divan (a storage divan that also has books inside it). The random books I have to sleep next to on my bed. The amount I own is oppressive in a micro-apartment.
I've always known I had a lot, but now I have the weight of 83 unfinished books on my mind. 83 is not a lot, it's excessive.
Now on to The Power Broker.