My One Book Deal with Seneca

I made a deal with Seneca — dead these two thousand or so years — to read just one book, instead of my usual three. The Metaphysical Club explores the lives and ideas of Oliver Wendell Holmes, William James, John Dewey, and others. I chose poorly. I thought it was a collection of biographies. Biography within biography within biography — too nested for me. For the first time in years, I will not be finishing this book. I spent a month trying to get into it, but I was forcing myself.

So, I’ve swapped books, reverting to a topic I can’t get bored with: the American Civil War. To Appomattox covers the last nine days of the war from the eyes of various Southerners. I’m nearly two hundred pages in after just a week. Seneca’s deal of one book works, but the book choice is super important.

Over the past year, I’ve been trying out different genres beyond historically based narratives or non-fiction. Self-help books are interesting. I read 4 3 2 1, a collection of parallel universes. Solid. I even got through This Little Life last year, which challenged my patience to begin with, but enraptured me halfway through. The Metaphysical Club, not so much. I liked some of the writing, but it was also asking too much.

Seneca preached depth over breadth. Would he be disappointed that I’m discarding an unfinished book? Or perhaps he’d be impressed that I had the strength to do so in order to home in on another book? I’d like to think that he would understand. I read nearly one hundred pages before calling it a loss. Now, I’m two hundred pages into the Civil War’s closing days.