So many books, so little time... |
When I was in the 2nd grade, I remember getting the scholastic book club catalog at school. It was a way for us kids to order books through a simple order form. The books would be delivered to the school and our parents would pay the bill. Not once did I ever want to order any book. But I soon found that they also sold stickers, and so I started asking my parents to get me stickers so I could get a package on delivery day to our class. It made me feel special and "part of."
In fourth grade we had to read a book and write a book report. My classmates read books like "Rising Sun" and "1984." I picked up a random Tony Hillerman book about mystery about a Native American. I never actually read the book, but read the first paragraph of each chapter and the last chapter of the book. I BS'ed the rest. I hated reading. I put it off every time. I did read one book in its entirety. 'Catcher in the Rye' was that book. Something about the seedy nature of it and the extremely-depressing tone appealed to me. I re-read that book twice in high-school. Despite the miracle I experienced with JD Salinger's novel, I always had a hard time remembering what I read, and details and facts about the book. This much was clear, I was a bad book reader. I'm not sure if I still am, but I sure do read with more enthusiasm and excitement.
I think this was the missing piece. I really needed to find out how to love books. Kind of like teaching one how to love vegetables. Usually this depends on the context of initial and subsequent exposure to the stimuli. For me, books were about depression and depressing things that I found confusing. What's worse is that there was always a test or report associated with each literary exposure. I began to associate books with pain and fear. In 2008 I randomly picked up a Harry Potter book. I watched one of the films, and thought that it sounded like a fun story, so I read the series. It was so exciting to have such a fun story that had a fast pace and offered a reality clearly different than my own. It provided the perfect diversion, which is exactly what I needed at the time. Upon finishing the 7th book of the series, I was excited to start another book. This time I thought I'd read a different genre, so I picked up Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. I really related to the author and could begin to see through metaphor, and other literary tools that eluded me as a kid.
Reading had turned into something different. It was an enjoyable activity. I really have JK Rowling to thank for that. She made reading fun for me. She didn't judge me like many other people had through my life for not taking to books. One would have thought I was a leper being a non-avid reader at UC Berkeley. God forbid! No, miss Rowling accepted me as I was, apathetic and uninterested, yet curious and willing. She took me to another place, and I was so happy to discover that even I could be a "reader."
From there I would alternate between fiction and non-fiction, between mystery, fantasy, and historical fiction. It has been a long journey, but back in 1992, I hated Lettuce and Lewis . It's 2015, and I now love both kale and Kafka. :-)
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