I can't say that I'm a bookworm. I was one in childhood and adolescence, but later I read books only from time to time. My approach to choosing books was quite mediocre - I read for pleasure and curiosity. The Soviet school system did everything to keep me away from the Great Literature. As a result, in adulthood I read 5-6 favorite authors for 20 years. All these books were from entertainment genres: science fiction, historical crime novels and dramas. On average, I read 3-4 books per year.

Everything changed three years ago, when I found a Russian speaking book club in Cracow. From my first visit I fell in love with this small cheerful intellectual community. The book club has meetings every Sunday, so you only have a week to read a thick book. Moreover, the majority of chosen novels and authors are from the world of Great Literature. The discussions in the club were so exciting to me, that I read about 50 novels and participated in almost all discussions. It continued for a year. Then I became more capricious with my decisions if I want to read a novel, which is not my cup of tea. So, during the second year I read only 20-25 books. Some novels were read only for 20-30 percent of a book because I decided it made no sense to read it further.

A year ago I left the book club because I lost my excitement about its society and discussions. The consequences were inevitable. I've read only 7-8 new novels or novellas during this year. In Cracow we have a number of book clubs, where readers discuss books in English or Polish languages. From time to time I visit an English book club with my girlfriend. Unfortunately, reading in English to me is a real challenge, so I need to be quite motivated to read an announced novel. Often I read or listen to the chosen novel in Russian. But even in such cases, I cannot force myself to read a book if its content is too far from my taste.

For illustration, currently I listen to a Russian audiobook, issued in 2016 for my delight and I read a famous novel by a great writer, published in 1927 for an upcoming discussion in the book club. The reading of this classic novel is a kind of exercise to me. I suppose the reason is my ignorance and undeveloped skill of how to analyse complex fiction. Regularly, I listen to podcasts with literary analysis of advanced readers and I’m burning with jealousy. But my technical education and life path don't leave me any hope to become a good critic.