Tuesday, March 30, 2010

It's not a bad addiction.

I love books. There. I said it. Not that it's a big surprise to, uh, anyone. Especially not my husband. He is well aware of my desire to collect books. And while he rolls his eyes at me and grumbles about having books stacked everywhere, (no, really. I have four in my kitchen because I read them while I cook) I know he would rather me spend our hard (kinda) earned money on books that shoes and purses and makeup. Oh wait.

Back to the point. My mother is the enabler behind my problem. From a young age she pushed books in my face and made me read them. Forced, really. And I suffered. How I suffered. It is because of her insistence that I read that so many imaginary friends popped up in my head. Who needed to go outside and play when I could open up a book and be taken to someplace better than Sunshine Drive. And, okay, it wasn't hard to find a place better than Sunshine Drive, but that's not the point.

All through school I was a bookworm. People doubted how many books I read. They argued that it wasn't possible for one person to spend that much time reading. I pointed out that I didn't watch much television and I rarely played video games. These concepts were foreign to some of my friends. Poor kids. My love for reading never faded, though my available time certainly did. Still, there is nothing to this day that I love more than a new book. The smell of it. The weight of it in my hands. Not knowing how it is going to end or what characters I'm going to fall in love with.

But, sadly, I've noticed that as people grow older, they read less. I know so many people who say that haven't read a book since they were in school. Some of those people mean high school. How is that possible? How is it possible to go ten years without reading a book? I can't even go ten days. Are we all so addicted to the television/internet/texting that we can't take twenty minutes a day to read a bit of a book? I've heard people say that books are interesting. How can they not be? Where do people think so many movies come from? And have we all stopped using our imagination to the point that we can't picture far away lands and magical creatures in our minds?

Then today I went to a book signing for Christopher Moore. If you don't know who he is, I strongly suggest you read him. Well, if you're not easily offended. Because he is offensive. He's also hysterical, witty, intelligent and one of my favorite authors. There were so many people there to listen to him and have the chance to meet him. And seeing that gave me a little bit of hope.

Please. Pick up a book. I don't care if it's a sparkly vampire novel (okay, I lied. I do. Please don't read those) or a piece of classic literature. But read. Read to your kids. Share books with your friends. Just don't let your imagination die because you're too busy or too bored to read.


Leanne said...

Books provide so much value and it is one you can give to your children and grandchildren. My love of books came from Katy's grandfather and his mother gave him and all of his sibling the desire to read and learn. We are so blessed to have this habit.

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