That’s a very good question, and one to which, at this stage, I do not know the answer. But hopefully, though we will see how successful it is, it will be an eye opening experience for both myself and for you. My current vision for Shelf Confidence is to motivate myself to get back into reading. In this day and age, it can be a struggle to do anything other than watch streaming services and scroll through an endless drone of the same social media posts, a fact I know all to well. I hope that through conquering the mountain that is my bookshelf I will be able to wean myself off of this craziness, and also regain confidence in myself. But, as with every endeavour, this may end in complete failure. There will be many bumps along the way, but that’s what makes great entertainment. Right?
Reading has always been a huge part of my life. As a child every summer I would participate in the local library reading challenge and collect stickers for reading a copious amount of books. When I was ten I was nicknamed J. K. Rowling by my primary school teacher. Throughout secondary school English Literature was always one of my favourite subjects. Finally, when it came to choosing University courses, I decided to study English Literature at one of the most picturesque places in the United Kingdom. Reading is therefore a huge part of my identity. However, as most Literature students will tell you, when you do a Literature degree it can make you fall out of love with reading. It’s not the fault of the University or the lecturers, but the course, by it’s very definition, is about critiquing works of literature. Authors you once loved suddenly grate on you. Genres you adored are suddenly ripped to shreds before your eyes.
That’s not to say that a Literature degree is awful. I have zero regrets. My degree opened my eyes to new areas I didn’t think I would enjoy. Out of nowhere I suddenly loved reading medieval epics and Arthurian literature, which is an area I never thought I would enjoy. I was able to learn where my own voice existed within literary studies. But that isn’t to say that I am not excited to conquer the behemoth of my bookshelf, sitting in the corner of my bedroom gathering dust. It is my own beast to slay. And I will do so, à la Beowulf. Perhaps this exercise is pointless. Perhaps I will get to the end having consumed more words and gained zero knowledge. Perhaps I will stand at the top of the mountain and realise it is crumbling under my feet. I don’t care. Whatever the outcome, I don’t want to be one of those people with an extensive book collection which has gone untouched in years. Because how can you call yourself a bibliophile if the last time you touched a book was when you placed it on the shelf?
Fay Dragon 