I have always loved reading. I remember my mom reading the Grandma’s Attic books to my sister and me before bed when we were little, and us laughing hysterically together over one of the stories called A Pig in a Poke. I couldn’t tell you what the story was about today, but the name and the memory of reading together has stayed with me. I had a bookshelf in my room, containing books which I would read and re-read and re-re-read countless times - Anne of Green Gables, The Witches, Matilda (I remember reading that as I was roller-skating back and forth across our unfinished basement floor), Where the Red Fern Grows, (which I covered in transparent patterned shelf liner for some reason) the Emily series by LM Montgomery, Gordon Korman’s Bruno and Boots series, and on and on. In elementary school, my friend Sarah’s parents would drive us to the library in their wood-paneled station wagon complete with the way-back seat, and we would have competitions over who could borrow the most books and get all of them read fastest. I remember my paper library card, the edges softened with use and my borrower number carefully printed on it in blue ballpoint by the librarian. My favourites to borrow from the library were always the books with that glorious “mystery” sticker on the spine - sometimes a skull, and sometimes a detective wielding a magnifying glass. That particular love continues to this day.
I usually have a few books on the go at any given time. An audio book from the library (through the Libby or Hoopla app) that I listen to while driving for work. Second, a non-fiction one for daytime reading (at this time of year, my progress is usually pretty slow through those ones), and almost always fiction on paper at night before going to sleep. Non-fiction at night is too engaging and keeps me alert.
I think that people sometimes pigeon-hole themselves into reading only a particular genre. Like with food or music, variety is what makes life interesting, and books are such a wonderful way to better understand experiences of other people who don’t necessarily share any obvious connection with you. Adam and I are in a book club that has been going for over a decade. We each take turns choosing books, so often I read books that I might not otherwise. I love reading books with the purpose of discussing them - there is so much added richness and depth that come along with the conversations and perspectives that everyone shares. And for me, reading with that in mind makes me a better reader. I think there’s a time and a place for just about any kind of book - I will freely admit that the Murder She Wrote books are mostly not the best written or most plausible (in Killer on the Court the murder weapon was a tennis ball machine, which may be the most ridiculous thing I have ever read) - but I still love them for what they are, and that is totally fine. They take me along with a character that I love on a new adventure, and I know that whenever I pick one up I can really suspend my disbelief and enter that world. Trick or Treachery is waiting for me to dive into later today. I also enjoy deeper books, but as with food, variety makes everything more enjoyable.
What’s a post about reading without recommendations? In case you’re looking for your next read, here are a few that I have read and given four or five stars over the past year.
Non-fiction:
Diability Visibilty: First Person Stories from the Twenty-First Century, edited by Alice Wong
Four Thousand Weeks by Oliver Burkeman
Fiction:
The Shell Seekers by Rosamunde Pilcher
The Seed Keeper by Diane Wilson
Clearly, I have lots to say about reading and books, and could go on and on… and on. I would love any recommendations that you have to share!