I had thought the phrase “promiscuous reader” originated with Virginia Woolf to describe someone who reads widely and passionately – even the sides of breakfast cereal boxes – but now fail to find it. (So much for relying on memory.) Instead, she left us The Common Reader, itself drawing on Dr. Samuel Johnson’s phrase in his “Life of Gray,” where he bellows, “I rejoice to concur with the common reader; for by the common sense of readers, uncorrupted by literary prejudices, after all the refinements of subtlety and the dogmatism of learning, must be finally decided all claim to poetical honors.” Woolf, of course, takes Johnson to task as she peruses her own wide range of literature, while Johnson, in that cruel twist of fate, exists almost exclusively in the realm of university English literature departments.
I think, too, of a girlfriend’s reaction the first time she entered my apartment and saw the rows of peach lugs displaying my collected books along one wall: “Wow, you’ve read all these?” Well, mostly, I probably replied, silently realizing there would be some serious differences here. Looking back, I see how many more volumes had slipped away – in the divorce, to other lovers – or simply been borrowed and never returned. (The lugs, by the way, were inspired by a description in Kerouac’s The Dharma Bums – the orchard no longer used apple crates, but the wooden peach lugs were still available.)
On the other hand, you may be one of those who enters a home and immediately heads for the shelves to see what the host reads – or even plays on the CD or phonograph. As my ledger of readings demonstrates, the spines of the volumes can say a lot about a person. Besides, the paradox of books and magazines is that they dwell in our private experiences, yet also engage in a dialogue, often across decades or even centuries. Sometimes we even find others whose readings overlap and can speak together of our travels. At the moment, I’m beginning to feel like an open book.
All the same, here’s hoping you enjoy my shelves, such as they are. And thanks to those of you who have already weighed in.
Jnana's Red Barn 
I remember when I used to read cereal boxes at the table years ago.
And then you “moved up” to the morning newspaper? Propped up against the cereal box?
Can you still picture the table, or even smell it?
Oh, the memories …
You took the thoughts out of my head and put them here for me to read as thoughts of your own… to see that is amazing! My bookshelves are filled three deep and those books are like people to me. If someone wants to borrow one, especially if it is one of my collection of old classics and proudly a couple of first editions, I just change the subject to make them forget they asked… not wanting to be impolite but the answer is no! Thanks for sharing this, I enjoyed it!
Sometimes I’ll buy an extra copy of a book I expect to be lending. Or if it’s truly beloved, it goes on a shelf in my studio, rather than the front parlor we call the library.
😄👍