Wherein I manage to answer every question with a No, I don't have one of these, but how about this tangentially related answer?  (Via 
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png) sovay
sovay and 
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png) osprey_archer
osprey_archer)
1. Lust, books I want to read for their cover.
There aren't any of these right now, but back when I was a kid, I picked up Patricia McKillup's 
The Forgotten Beasts of Eld because of 
this cover. I loved the evening sunset glow of it, very Maxfield Parrish-esque.
2. Pride, challenging books I finished.
When we're talking about reading for pleasure, I'm pretty much of a quitter when the going gets tough, so I can't really say there are any of these. Maybe reading the Portuguese version of 
Ideas to Postpone the End of the World (
Ideias para apiar o fim do mundo), but see, then it's not entirely pleasure reading; it's partly language practice. And it's a very short book, so...
There are books that have lingered in my currently-reading pile pretty much untouched, and it's not that they're super challenging, they just take more commitment than I can often muster, e.g., Elinor Ostrom's 
Governing the Commons, which I want to read for the information, and it's engagingly written, just .... for 
pleasure I'd rather read other stuff.
3. Gluttony, books I've read more than once.
I did this a LOT as a kid, but I haven't as an adult (except for, e.g., reading childhood faves to my own kids). Instead what I do is reread particular sections or passages that I love, but honestly, I don't even do that very often; mostly it happens when I want to share something with someone. This happened recently with Susanna Clarke's 
Piranesi, for example.
4. Sloth, books that have been longest on my to-read list. 
I put things on my to-read list with thoughtless abandon; I don't even know what-all is on my list, and often they're things I'm only vaguely curious about.  A bigger sign of sloth is the books I start and don't finish, like 
Governing the Commons, noted above. Or Robin Wall Kimmerer's 
Braiding Sweetgrass, which I think is beautiful in its moment-by-moment observations (some of which jump vividly to mind when I type this), but which, overall, I have a terrible time sitting down to read.
5. Greed, books I own multiple editions of.
I only own multiple editions of stuff I used when I was teaching in the jail, and I've been thinning those out (but e.g., I had multiple editions of Esmeralda Santiago's 
When I was Puerto Rican).
6. Wrath, books I despised. 
Books I take a deep hate to I generally don't finish, but there are books that ticked me off mightily in some aspect or other, even if I didn't overall despise them. The focus on the technology of writing as a sign of cultural advancement that was present in Ray Nayler's 
The Mountain in the Sea annoyed me big time, though there were other elements in the book that I thought were very cool, very thoughtful. I have an outsized, probably unfair dislike of 
A  Psalm for the Wild-Built, by Becky Chambers, very it's-not-you-it's-me thing (
except that the dislike is large enough that I find myself whispering, But maybe it's a little bit you, actually)
7. Envy, books I want to live in.
I don't want to live in any books right now.
As a kid, I tried to get to lots of fantasy lands (the ol' walk-into-a-closet thing, because as an American kid I didn't even properly know what a wardrobe was: in our house, winter coats were in a closet), and I played that I was part of lots of others. But probably the ones I wanted to live in most were Zilpha Keatley Snyder's Greensky books. I wanted to glide from bough to bough of giant trees with the aid of a shuba and low gravity, have a life full of songs and dancing to defuse personal tensions, not to mention psychic powers and an overall jungle environment.