But now, there's a new catch. Evidently, as books are coming in from a variety of publishers and topics--including spirituality, preaching, academic, adolescent, as well as memoirs and novels--I am being offered options. My most recent list included nearly forty books, and I selected the titles best suited to my schedule, interests and bailiwick.
But I always have to answer for these things.
Over a two day period, as I crated four large and heavy boxes into my office for unpacking (including a shipment of first-edition titles bearing my name on the cover), I had to answer to my wife.
"What are these boxes doing in the middle of the floor?" she asked.
"That's under review," I said (she hates puns).
"Do they have to stay here? Can't you get rid of them?" (My wife seems concerned about appearances since we just completed a kitchen remodel and full-scale painting of the interior of the house.)
"It's all work," I explained. "This is what gets me up at 3 a.m."
"Well," she asked, "How quickly can you read these?"
"I'm reading them even as you speak," I said. "And as soon as I write my reviews for the magazines, I'll pass these books along to someone who has a life."
"Tell me you're getting paid for this."
"I am," I said. "And I'll even buy you a White Castle burger and Dilly Bar to prove it. We'll shoot the works."
But under further review, I do wonder about my attitude. Being a book-reviewer doesn't land me much sleep. And after twenty-nine years of marriage I keep looking for that box of books that will contain the perfect marriage manual. I can't wait to review it. Somebody out there has to have the answers.
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