IT ALL TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE COVERS

I like to read. A lot. Always have. I vividly recall early visits to the library and the hushed sensation of much anticipatory delight. 

Searching the stacks, I looked forward to an adventurous short story, a mysterious romp or an amusing tale. What care I took in choosing my six books and placing them atop the check-out desk alongside my very own library card… awaiting the familiar open-stamp, open-stamp, open-stamp with each of my selections.

All to be dipped into over and over again until the date they were due.    

The Big Golden Book of Poetry  never caused me worry of being past due.  IT WAS ALL MINE. I loved it wholly and was captivated by the telling of “The Owl and the Pussy-Cat” and the poetry of “The Swing” – whether being read to or revisiting on my own. Likewise, the playful words and humorous illustrations in my favorite Dr. Seuss titles: Green Eggs and Ham, One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish, The Cat and the Hat and Horton Hears a Who! I still have those books… careworn and beloved.

“our sisterhood of suspenseful detective work”

I fell for Nancy Drew books… the hidden whatever and the secret of something. How very advantageous to have made friends with a girl who happened to have that very collection shelved in her bedroom. When we weren’t playing jacks we were sprawled on the floor… face-down-legs bent-crossed-at-the-ankles… devouring our sisterhood of suspenseful detective work.

Did I sweet-talk my way into this friendship? Was coercion involved? Only Nancy could put two and two together.

How about those elementary school reading levels kids were grouped into? First grade, seated in a circle, we took turns reading one page each. Did it register that a sketchy assessment was taking place? I must have known on some level, as I would count heads and attempt to skip ahead to pre-read my part.

Clearly my breathless articulation of Dick and Jane was enough to grant me Bluebird ranking. It didn’t matter what cockamamie name was attributed to lowest, middle or highest – in my school: Canary, Robin, Bluebird – we ALL figured out what it meant if you were a Canary. First graders are astute and VERY judgy.

“world of provocative adventure”

For many years, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn was my annual summer read. Then it was To Kill a Mockingbird, The Catcher in the Rye and Franny and Zooey. Ian Fleming was responsible for unleashing a world of provocative adventure. And when my gaggle of seventh grade girlfriends wished to push those sexual innuendos we took turns reading aloud from the “good parts” of Candy.

Re-reading books was, and still is, my thing. More often than not it’s one I choose to come back to… but sooooometimes it takes a sentence, a chapter, the correct guessing of whodunnit halfway through to cause me to remember it had already been read. By ME!

Several years ago I was asked to join a book club. Makes sense… I love books! However, my ability to kiss off the assigned book was evident in my extraordinary ability to read anything else but.

I did redeem myself by forming a book club of sorts with four friends. Although our version of convening and discussing could easily be looked on as eating and boozing.

“nightly ritual of perusing”

I swore I would never, ever be a sell-out and purchase a Kindle. Heaven forbid. How could anyone abandon the weight of a hardcover or pooh-pooh the breezy page turning of a beachy paperback? Not me. YES ME!

Before all you diehards jump on me… imagine you are gingerly slipping under your cool, crisp sheets and without the turning on of light or rustling of pages your nightly ritual of perusing is without consequence of interruption from your sweetly slumbering partner rousing to request a backrub or conversation. See what I mean?

Having a library of books at my fingertips to re-read (re-KINDLE) when I am in-between or the ability to finish one and purchase another with the press of a couple of buttons… you gotta admit …is pretty cool. And all within this cute, compact, practically weightless contraption.

The negative? Not knowing the title of a current read. For people like me it should be boldly displayed at the tippy top of every swiped page. Something like: hey there, you are currently reading title of book. That would be very helpful.

I haven’t totally given up on tactilely bound volumes. A page-turning paper version is my preference on an airplane – and once in a while I will recharge with a weighty tome.

“can’t-put-it-down”

Throwing out a book, to me, is sacrilege. Giving away a book – hard. When I am engrossed in one of those can’t-put-it-down books… I don’t. As a fast reader, pulling an over-nighter is not unheard of. And perhaps that lack of sleep (and quick pace) has something to do with my need to re-read?!

Although I’m not a big analyzer or searcher of symbolism in written passages, I so enjoy words and how sentences are strung together. How fantastic are these authored works communicating brand spanking new info, keeping me in suspense or allowing me to insert myself into unlikely, in my case, situations.

Keep in mind, I may be a voracious bookaholic, but not so much a voracious comprehender. (In one ear and out the other). So if I offer a suggestion for your next read, please avoid asking, “what’s it about?” or “who’s the author?” – all I can remember is that I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Read The Red Tent… don’t ask.