I love Super Bowl Sunday. Nope, not for the football, or the parties. To me, Super Bowl Sunday means only one thing: a whole day of reading anything and everything I want to read. No chores, no TV, no social obligations, not even any writing. I reserve that one special day a year just for my books. Last year I was on the beach with a blanket, a camera, and a bag of novels. Today, it was a bit chilly for that – 60+ but super windy – so I stayed on my sofa in my jammies and never ventured outside.
To prep for the big read, I make sure to have plenty of page friendly snacks – mainly chocolate – and a stack of books I most want to read. Pre-game I thumb through the stack to decide what I want to lose myself in for a whole day, reading back covers and skimming random sections. This year I have a great team, all first string reads. To kick-off the day I finished up Wish You Were Here, by Stewart O’Nan. Then, mid-morning, I started a new book, one that’s been waiting on the top of my to-be-read pile – Bring Up the Bodies, by Hilary Mantel.
After I’ve been reading for a while, I periodically pause the novel to read short stories from a new collection. (my answer to Super Bowl commercial breaks) I’m totally excited today to be reading one of my favorite short stories authors, George Saunders, and his much-lauded Tenth of December. His stories are the perfect Super Bowl of Books commercial breaks, smart and funny and memorable. I continue in this fashion until after midnight, knowing if I stay up way too late immersed in my fictional world, well, at least everyone else will be sleep-deprived tomorrow, too.
My Super Bowl of Books is not for everyone, but for those of us who really do not give a damn who wins a football game, it is the best sport I can imagine.