Ethical Reading

“This paperback edition, and no other, has been published with my consent and co-operation. Those who approve of courtesy (at least) to living authors will purchase it and no other.”  —J. R. R. Tolkien

Hello, my name is The Random Texan, and I am a junk literature addict.  I am here to confess my addiction and describe how I deal with it using the Alcoholic Anonymous 12 Steps model. 

The Twelve Steps are

Honesty: Admitting powerlessness over alcohol and unmanageability of life.

At age nine, my mother, a hard-core reading addict, introduced me to junk literature at the local public library.  She allowed me to check out Donald Wollheim’s Secret of the Ninth Planet as “recreational reading.”  I started reading it after supper, and lay awake reading it straight through to the end that night. I was sleepy, cranky, and inattentive at school the next day.

 I was hooked, and began a long and tortured descent into the Hell of recreational reading.  desperate for more science fiction, i turned to the only sources I knew, the public library and the  Winston Science Fiction Series.

The local library didn’t have the entire Winston series, but darn near.  I read them all.  I was astonished when Chad Oliver’s Mists of Dawn and Bryce Walton’s Sons of the Ocean Deeps revealed that many great science fiction sagas didn’t occur in outer space.

Before I knew it, I was in high school.  And I want a new drug.

And I find it. Edgar. Rice. Burroughs. At some random newsstand I find an Ace Paperback of ERB’s The Chessmen of Mars

What a rush!  And just as I had with the Winston Science Fiction Series, I’d stumbled into a vast pipeline of junk lit, series of related books.  ERB’s Martian Tales were my first, but ERB had many more.  There was the Venus Series, the Pellucidar Tales, the Cave Girl duo, and of course, Tarzan.

Of course addicts like variety, and E.E. Smith was just the ticket.

And then an old and mighty sleeping dragon throws his shadow over the world.  J.R.R. Tolkien awakes with the Lord of the Rings.  And I fall all the way down the rabbit hole and buy the “bootleg” Ace paperback (I paid 75¢ for each volume they sell to collectors today for $125.  I’m a genius at investing in stupid stuff) .  Mind. Is. Blown.

And suddenly, I’ve graduated from high school and move on to university.  And I find another stream of junk lit: mysteries.  Sherlock Holmes is de rigeur, but not much of a hit.  Raymond Chandler’s novels are mind-blowingly strong stuff; thank God there’s a finite supply.  But Ross McDonald’s stuff is nearly as strong, and there’s lots of it.  Fortunately, I can maintain a steady buzz on the vast ocean of Agatha Christie. And get some exotic hits from Sax Rohmer and the Mysterious Dr. Fu Manchu. (secret Chinese conspracies for world domination, what a ridiculous and racist idea!)

All the while I’m taking strong maintenance doses of Robert Heinlein, putting Starship Troopers and Stranger in a Strange Land on automatic replay.

Then Heinlein drops The Number of the Beast; it’s a turd in the punchbowl.  I stop reading the poison.  Years later I backslide and buy a copy of The Search for the Pankara.  Two turds in the punchbowl.

I cut my science fiction reading way back in favor of mysteries.  I start reading more history and technical stuff as I enter graduate school.  I become Polyanna; I’m getting a handle on this thing.

So I kid myself that God has smiled on me and I’m getting right with Jesus through no effort of my own. Then I pick up a Bryant and May novel and fall down the rabbit hole.

Hope: Believing in a higher power that can restore sanity.

So I kid myself that God has smiled on me and I’m getting right with Jesus through no effort of my own. Then I pick up a Bryant and May novel and fall down the rabbit hole.

Surrender: Making a decision to turn will and life over to God.

I. Could. Not. Stop. Mary Russell and Holmes.  Jack Reacher. Joe Pickett.  The devils of junk lit were tormenting me like a guerilla army, and I was powerless to make them stop.  Please, God, MAKE IT STOP.  God, being God, told me I had to hold up my end.

Courage: Taking a fearless moral inventory.

Turns out my end is HEAVY.  Piled with unread sequels and the threat of even more come Christmas.

Integrity: Admitting wrongs to ourselves, God, and another person.

Told myself, told God, and told my wife I’ve been cuckoo crazy with the books and excessive junk reading.

Willingness: Being ready to have defects removed.

How did I get myself into this mess? How do I get out?  Maybe while I’m holding up my end, God will give me some hints.  After all, He’s got the end where He can see ahead, so He’s gonna make sure I don’t trip or back into something. 

Humility: Asking God to remove shortcomings.

Please, please, Jesus.  Keep me on the straight and narrow and don’t let me back into anything.  Especially not into a complete set of tempting books. Like that boxed set of Arsene Lupin over on the bedstand.

Love: Making a list of people harmed and being willing to make amends.

Sweet Jesus, I literally spit in Tolkien’s eye, and can never make it right.  I can only pay if forward, and I’ll never get out of the hole on that one.

Discipline: Making direct amends wherever possible.

Thank you, Jesus, you finally gave me a layup.  Just buy the book retail so the author gets his due.  Another book on the shelf lasts a lot longer than a $5 latte in a cardboard cup.  And you might need to check something out in the book.

Perseverance: Continuing to take personal inventory and promptly admitting wrongs.

You gotta keep an eye on yourself continually.  Be frugal, not cheap.  Tip the waiter, the street musician, the guy who checks your tires.

Spiritual Awareness: Seeking through prayer and meditation

Please, please, Oh Lord, turn this low cheapskate into a righteous man who buys a new book and bestows largess upon deserving authors by buying it in hardcover.

Service: Carrying the message to others and practicing these principles in all affairs.

If you’re on a limited book budget, by all means check books out of the library or buy them used.  But if you can afford it, pay the retail price for books written by living authors.  They work hard to earn your respect and readership.    

Hello, my name is The Random Texan, and I am a junk literature addict.  Today I confess that I own every book shown in this essay, along with every other book in the related series.  And when the Urge to Read Junk Lit creeps upon me in the night, I re-read those books.  BUT, I’ve also read Moby Dick three times to admire Melville’s artistry and the historic detail in the book.  For which I paid full price for a paperback edition.