You know, here I thought I was a fairly ambitious sort of chap, reading every book in the fiction shelves of my local library. (Yeah, thin books, but still.) I thought this would introduce me to a world of writing I had never considered, imagined, or encountered in my life. To be honest, it did, kind of. Many of the books were duds. Some were absolutely brilliant. But if I thought that was ambitious, I didn't reckon with true ambition.
I present you with the enthusiastic blog of a woman who decided to spend 2012 reading a book from e v e r y c o u n t r y i n t h e w o r l d. Every freakin' country. That's 196 countries, and South Sudan set itself up as the latest even as the readathon was going on. Many books were not even available in English translation, so she tweeted and facebooked and managed to organise teams of translators to do the work for her. She read and read and begged and encouraged and had time to blog about each book and get engaged as well. I'm beside myself in envy and awe.
Now that that record's been achieved, what is left for the likes of me except to pick up the dribs and drabs? My imagination fails me. But how about a book from every language in India? Papua New Guinea? Indonesia? If not a book, maybe a short story? A poem? Perhaps at least a listen of a song? Or a watch of a movie? How many languages are we talking?