Don't buy any more new books until you've worked your way through the backlog.
I've stalled three-quarters of the way through The Janissary Tree by Jason Goodwin and Barry Maitland's Spider Trap. Neither is difficult to read but I haven't been making headway with either recently. Maybe I need to hang out at Tullamarine Airport. That's a good place to get through novels.
After those two, I've lined up Arnaldur Idridason's Voices and Red Havana by Leonardo Padura. There are others—dozens, it seems—but I'm not even going to think about them at the moment or the prospect will overwhelm me.
My stack of non-fiction isn't getting any smaller either. I will not buy Jenny Uglow's new book about engraver Thomas Berwick until I've finished reading her Lunar Men. I've also made a start on William Dalrymple's White Mughals. And there are more, many more, but I'm damned if I can the titles at the moment. It's been a while since I dipped into them.
What on earth have I been doing with my time?
