One of the drawbacks of being somewhere between a bibliophile and bibliomaniac is that I sometimes acquire books and forget having done so. For example, when I was in Kalamazoo last year, I picked up a copy of Paul Strohm’s Chaucer’s Tale: 1386 and the Road to Canterbury, a look at Chaucer’s life in his pivotal year of 1386, when he started The Canterbury Tales and left London. As life winds from day to day, however, I forgot I had bought it until a few minutes ago when I ran across this review of the book in The Spectator. It sounds quite interesting, but now I don’t know whether to denounce myself for having forgotten about it or to praise myself for having had the foresight to get it in the first place.
Ah well, I suppose playing the absent-minded professor card is one of the perks of the gig.