Book Amnesia
I am rereading The End of the World as We Know It, a memoir by Robert Goolrick. I first read this book in 2020, about three years ago. I remember appreciating it, and I remmeber the twist ending, and I don't remember anything else at all. Every page of this memoir feels fresh. Other than the twist ending and one aspect of the author's personal life, I have no idea what is going to happen as I read the page, and none of the events spark recognition.
This is really frightening. On the one hand, it is cute that I am acting out the punchline to that Alzheimer's joke about being entertained by the same thing again and again. On the other, I am freaked out how little I retained of a book I appreciated. I still appreciate the book, but I don't remember it.
I vaguely recollect blogging about this before, but (irony!) I don't remember the details, and I can't find the entry. I do know that I consume books mindlessly, and I would do much better to read more slowly and more carefully. It would be great if I put into practice some of the advice I read from those great self-help books, but I don't. Instead I just chew through my reading and find something else to gulp down.
I don't have a grand moral to share. I just want to document how freaked out I am that a book I read not very long ago seems brand new to me.