The to-read pile on my bedside table is out of hand, it has taken on a life of its own, it sneers at me in the night and bides its time. I fear it has achieved sentience, or been processed by some forgotten old gods spirit* and one night soon it will take its moment and collapse upon me. Braining me with a copy of the complete works of Poe, two dozen paperbacks I have promised myself I will get read, several more hardbacks including one about pre-teen cannibalism, a history of dragon infestatio...