11 novels; 25 years

I started in Weston's Book Store, in Potsdam, back around 1983; I bought the first one I'd made with money from my paper route: 2001. Fitting enough, as that was the movie that started me on this journey- that codified my serious interest in film in the first place. From there, whenever I saw one, I'd buy it; some- 2001; The Shining; Lolita- were available everywhere; I've probably had half a dozen copies of each over the years. Some- Clean Break; Spartacus- were harder, and required a diligent search. Some last few stragglers- Paths of Glory; The Short-Timers; Red Alert- never crossed my path, in over twenty years of combing bookstores; it wasn't until a few weeks ago that I decided that enough was enough, and that I was not going to turn 40 with this unfinished. Now, they sit on a shelf at work, eleven novels: Clean Break. Paths of Glory. Spartacus. Lolita. Red Alert. 2001: A Space Odyssey. A Clockwork Orange. Barry Lyndon. The Shining (although my copy has that hideous new yellow cover; must find a copy of the old gray edition, with the logo of the faceless man). The Short-Timers. Eyes Wide Shut, which includes the original Dream Novel.

It's hard to think of another filmmaker for whom I would put forth this sort of effort; while many of Welles' movies were based on novels, Citizen Kane was an original, based on the life of Hearst. Kurosawa? I certainly have the Shakespeare plays, and The Lower Depths; more than half of his films were originals, though. Gilliam? I have Fear and Loathing, and an edition of the Munchausen stories, whereas Tideland... no. Best it ends here, even with a slightly anticlimactic feeling: after twenty-odd years of searching, a new clicks of the mouse on the Amazon site were all that was required. I suppose that as with any quest, the journey itself- and the discipline of setting upon it- were the real point, after all.