My journey to becoming disgustingly well-read (part I)
*Originally published on my Substack !* I pride myself on my voracious reading abilities. In my prime (about two to three years ago), I was reading a good 100 books a year. I would start a book at 12 p.m. and I’d be closing the back cover and marking it as read on my Goodreads by 12 a.m. Although the demanding trials of an undergraduate education at UC Berkeley has deterred me from hitting the triple digits in recent years, I have kept up a steady 30-50 books per year throughout college (counting the books I read for class, of course). My mother began reading to me before I was even born so it’s a trait that’s basically in my blood. I cannot imagine my life without it and I also am hyperaware that it is such a privilege to be able to read and understand literature at this level without having to worry about other necessities. However, looking through my “discography” of reads, I have since realized that my reading habits have been stuck into niches since the day I bega...