I’ve been sitting here in my bedroom, with Rosie pressed into the space between my thigh and the arm of my chair, looking over the list of books I’ve read since the middle of June when I decided to keep track of them. It seems that I go through about five a week—that is, I see five books through to the end; that number would climb if I included all of those I didn’t finish. I’m ruthless about that, by the way. I’ll pull the cord no matter how close to the ground.

Here are the books I finishe...