If anybody besides my mother is actually reading this, you're probably wondering what is so "dangerous" about reading a bunch of books over the course of a year. What could be safer than sitting inside, alone, away from harmful UV rays, bad drivers, and loaded firearms reading inanimate words on a page? The Year of Running Across Subway Tracks--that's dangerous. The Year of Reading is for agoraphobics, invalids, and unathletic nerds (although, for the record, I played sports. Take that, stereotypes).
Nor could "dangerous" really refer to what I'm reading; with a very few exceptions, none of the books I've chosen are particularly subversive. I did find, when I googled "the year of reading dangerously" to see if this blog popped up (yes, I am that lame), a blog/online book club called "My Year of Reading Dangerously" dedicated exclusively to "dangerous" (i.e. subversive, banned, challenging, etc.) works. Imagine my horror and chagrin when I realized my blog title was not at all original! I thought I had been so clever.
No, the "danger" in reading a book a week for fun is purely ironic. And that's classical, actual irony, not Alanis Morissette irony. I dare myself to be a rebel, to live a little and put down The Cabinet of Eros: Renaissance Mythological Painting and the Studiolo of Isabella d'Este and pick up In The Company of the Courtesan. And I dare you, whoever you are, if you're out there, to do the same: put down the Blackberry, the laptop, the stack of exams, pick up a good book, and take a few moments out of your day for yourself. Thrill-seekers might also pour themselves a glass of wine or have a second piece of cake. Oh, the humanity!
When it comes down to it, the danger is not really picking up a book. The danger is that in a world where we are more and more expected to be working round the clock, to be available 24/7, and to always be on top of the Dow report or proceedings of the latest RSA meeting, we run the risk of losing ourselves and losing what makes us human. We lose art, we lose music, we lose poetry, we lose beauty. And what's the point of living in a world without beauty? The danger is not picking up a book.
Of course, if you asked Dick Valentine of Electric Six, he'd tell you that danger is caressing your beloved. That's why you keep starting fires.
Go figure.
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