It might not be obvious since I don’t get through many books in a year’s time, but I really do enjoy reading. I compare it to a vacation of sorts. I get pulled through a journey with ups and downs feeling a whole gamete of emotions while reading a book. I feel the book that I’m reading. I may go to bed feeling happy, sad, confused, or indifferent while I’m in the midst of a good book and I love that. I enjoy both fiction and non-fiction, adult reads, childrens books, inspirational books and instructional books. But I have a special place for books based loosely on real life experiences. I am smitten by books that take me out of my comfort zone, loving that I can be a part of something “real” without ever leaving my couch. I like to get in the mind of the author and live in different shoes for a while. I find good writers fascinating not because of their knowledge of a certain subject or their high education level, but because of their ability to make what they have in their brain come to life in my brain. The way that they can take my mind to places it would otherwise may have missed out on because I love new experiences. I can relate with writers because, I like them, have a tendency to think inward most of the time. The big difference being that they have an amazing ability to put these thoughts onto paper. I love that authors have their own tones in their writings. Some I like and some I don’t but everyone has their own style and it works for them. My favorite movie in high school was Dead Poet’s Society, and I guess it still is. Seeing how my movie viewing has been pretty limited since that time in my life I don’t think that I’ve seen one that I’ve enjoyed any more.
Almost as much as reading a book I love talking about books that I read. I love that you can work through it when you talk it out. I like hearing about the parts that really struck other people that may be different from the parts that really struck you. I enjoy the conversation that a good book can create.
David on the other hand….
is snoring at this very moment while trying to read a book that I so desperately want him to read so that we can discuss it. I don’t think that he feels the same way about books. He would disagree even telling me that he reads more than I do so he must enjoying reading more than I. I respectfully disagree with him, saying that skimming a book is not reading. Plowing through the book with the sheer purpose of being able to say that you read it is not feeling the book. And (ahem), my dear, reading the reviews for a best seller is not the same as reading said best seller.
So I wait…