FIRST PERSON | I’m an open book: I love to read. I just can’t get enough.

Jews are known as the People of the Book because of our proud connection to the Torah and our multi-millennial love of learning, but in my case, I fear I’ve taken that love affair too far.  

In 2025, I read 93 books. Now I know there are super-readers out there who boast of reading 300+ books a year, but some of those folks are retirees. I work, so 93 seems impressive … at least to me.

Embarrassingly, I’ve become that kind of reader. You know the type. The one who talks excessively about the books they read … as in all the time, even in bed to their spouse, even when their spouse is trying to sleep or get romantic!

I’ve got books piled precariously high on my nightstand, in the family room, in the living room and in the car. I mean, you never know what book you want to carry into a particular specialist’s office. 

To accompany these stacks of books, I’ve got reading glasses, highlighters and lately, in a charming, stylish touch, reading lamps that I plop onto my head to illuminate the pages. On the rare occasion I lift my head to engage in conversation, I blind my husband from the glare of the light.

Not that I’m not good company (or at least, that’s what I think). I dutifully sit beside my spouse while he watches the Golden State Warriors on TV. I just do so by adding a noise-cancelling headset to my reading gear. I may look ridiculous, but no man or basketball shall stand between me and my book.

Now, there is a cost to my bookaholic ways. In fact, multiple costs. 

There is, of course, the financial aspect of nonstop book buying. I could check out books from the library, but books are friends. Do you return friends when you’re finished with them? Of course, not! Besides, there are worse ways to waste money. Gambling. Excessive drinking. Designer pocketbooks. 

Decades ago, when I worked for the U.S. State Department, I traveled a lot. My mother handled my bills, so I wouldn’t forget to pay them on time. Once she asked me about all the bookstore charges on my credit card. 

“Do you have a book-buying problem?” she asked. “You can’t possibly read so many books.” 

I thought she was joking. 

Nope. She was concerned.

Then, there’s the cost in terms of social obligations. Lately, I’ve been neglecting my friends, preferring to stay in rather than go out and gab. Sometimes a book just grabs me, and I cannot put it down. Of course, when the gathering is a book club meeting, I’m all in.

Now, in terms of my bookish addiction, I come to it by religion and by family. 

A long-running core tenet of Judaism is literacy in order to study Torah and Talmud. Early prejudice and prohibitions against land ownership drove our people to “intellectual” professions such as medicine and finance, which also built reliance on reading and education. 

In terms of my upbringing, we were definitely a family of books. 

My mother was a lifetime Book-of-the-Month Clubber. My father had a photographic memory. He read constantly, and whatever he read, he remembered for life. 

Just for fun, he’d grab a volume of the encyclopedia at random. “M.” “D.” “W.” He’d start at page 1 and work his way to the end. At dinner, he’d share what he’d learned: science, history, geography — all discussed over brisket, steak or swordfish. 

My book habit is a space burden as well. I am constantly running out of places to place books and bookcases. I try “stealing” shelf space in my husband’s at-home office, but he’s wise to my ways and promptly returns my books to my office. The cad! I tried using an e-reader, but I just cannot get used to it. 

As for bookshelves, I’m my own worst enemy. I am philosophically, make that morally, opposed to double-stacking on a shelf. Books are not sardines. They need room to be viewed, admired and easily referenced. 

As for those people, those designers and decorators who arrange books by color, I am convinced there is a special place in biblio-hell for them. Don’t you agree?

Now, while I do have standards for arranging books, I am, contradictorily, a book abuser. 

I maul my books, folding pages mercilessly and underlining and highlighting with abandon. I also write notes in books. And if you’re wondering: Yes, I break the spines of books. If a book won’t stay open on its own accord, I snap it into submission. 

This brings me to the next book on my list: “Jewish Pirates of the Caribbean: How a Generation of Swashbuckling Jews Carved Out an Empire in the New World in Their Quest for Treasure, Religious Freedom — and Revenge” by Edward Kritzler. 

The book isn’t new, but I can’t wait to step aboard. Arrr!