I love anthologies. For one, they look impressive on my bookcase. And second, I feel like they are good value for money, especially when considering the price you would pay per story. I just love flipping through them – the smell of the paper, the famous names that pass by, one by one. Each anthology contains its own little world of wonderful stories, joined by a common element: Middle English, Modernism, Children’s Literature, American Literature, Irish Folk Tales, Shakespeare, Jane Austen…
But there’s one big drawback: they often weigh so much that holding one up for a while to read feels like having a workout; while placing it on my lap means leaning over it, which in turn means getting a sore neck before too long. And how about placing it on my desk? Goodness no, that feels way too much like studying.
It’s therefore not surprising that the only time I’ve actually read the complete stories from an anthology was at university. And so, the anthologies remain standing, firm and majestic on my bookshelf… collecting dust.