The bookaholic

 First published in Column 8 on the 5^th August, 1992

Some would say the worst ‘disease’ in the nation is alcoholism. Certainly it is prevalent, and the cause of much physical and mental damage.

However, there is another disease even more widespread, whose insidious effects on the population, though seemingly mild, are ravaging the nation. I talk of bookaholism.

Before I speak of symptoms, let me give you some statistics – conveniently culled from the latest Listener. New Zealanders spend $130 million on newspapers each year. In 1991 alone, local authority libraries (that’s not including private libraries) made 38 million issues, and held 8.5 million books.

I blame the libraries, in part, for their encouragement of bookaholism. Their casual attitude towards lending is evident in the lifestyle of every bookaholic you meet.

We know there are some people in the country who resist libraries, who are temperate in their  habits. And of course few babies read, although there were some supposedly enlightened people a few years ago trying to encourage the habit in mere infants.

But even if the libraries were all closed down, we’d be struggling with the enormity of the problem – bookaholics also buy books.

What is an average bookaholic like? Age doesn’t enter into it, though of course the older the bookaholic the more ingrained the habit. I know one man who as a child couldn’t sit down to a meal without a book in front of him. You can imagine his response now when his beleaguered wife tries to converse. ‘Hmmm?’

And gender is irrelevant. There are just as many woman bookaholics reading their Mills & Boons as men reading their car manuals.

Bookaholics are always desperate for something to read. They will read an ancient newspaper when lighting the fire, or pretend to do the crossword in an out-of-date magazine. Half-finished books with turned-over corners or with bookmarks made out of any scrap of paper (as long as it has print on it) litter their  homes.

Every room in the house has evidence of this malady. The lounge, with books flung down on (good grief, Stanton!) the television. The bedroom, with books hidden under the pillow. The kitchen, where the bookaholic will even read cookery books if the craving cannot otherwise be satisfied. The bathroom, where the soggy remains of a book will lie curled up inside a sodden towel. The toilet – yes, even the toilet. Here you will find books dumped on the cistern, flat on their face – only a few of the worst bookaholics will use blank toilet paper for bookmarks.

(I have known bookaholics in the loo bereft of print on paper who take to reading toilet roll wrappings. Inconceivable.)

Nothing is sacred. The bookaholic will put on a long playing record – they won’t have caught up with cassettes or CDs because their funds are never sufficient – and fail to listen to the music. Instead you will find them reading the sleeve, and even attempting to translate the German and French.

See them at the Regent Booksale: they bring their own boxes, and fill them to overflowing with Readers’ Digest Condensed Books.

See them in their lunch hours – at the library, or ‘browsing’ (as they call it) in their local (bookshop, that is). One bookaholic I knew works in a bookshop; what does he do in his free time? Browse.

I know the bookaholic isn’t guilty of bookish driving (though some have been known to read at the steering wheel), and he doesn’t beat up his wife or kids – more often he doesn’t notice them. But the drain on resources and the damage to the youth and flower of our nation is appalling.

Surely it is time for someone to adapt the 12 Steps and set up a BI (Bookaholics Innominate). Is there no one willing to stand up and turn us from a nation of bookworms into semi-illiterates?

 

My instinct on reading this piece after thirty plus years is that New Zealanders in 2026 would be reading a lot less than in 1992. But in fact they’re Bucking the Trend. The National Reading Survey shows that reading in NZ is up!