Blog 2 Feb 2018
There’s something about having a book in my hand or lap and settling down to read that gives me a cozy, secure feeling full of anticipation whether the book is frightening or otherwise. What can be very odd and seemingly contradictory is that reading in the company of a friend or family member does not insult the other person.
What’s more, there is a feeling of companionship rather than alienation in this circumstance, particularly if everyone is reading at the same time. Another highlight when reading with others is sharing bits of the story or reading passages aloud. This activity, on the one hand singular and on the other inclusive is a wonderful offshoot of reading with company.
The range of feelings and vicarious experiences through reading is limitless. Once I began reading as a very young child, I knew I’d never give it up. There is so much to learn, so many people to inhabit, so many places to visit. Fiction and non-fiction are both important. Each in its own way helps me grow and find more fodder for thought and analysis.
Far too late in my life, I began to keep a reading list: those books I’ve read and those I wish to read. I must say, there is no greater frustration in life than realizing how many books you will never read. There are so many beautiful offerings but vita brevis. In recent years, due to several projects I have been working on, my reading has suffered. Normally, on average, I would read two books in a week or ten days. At this time, I am not anywhere near this number. It grieves me. I don’t feel whole without having read at least 2 or 3 books a week.
What I am happy about is keeping a list of what I’ve read. In the old days, I could remember titles and authors no problem. I no longer have instant recall for this so, my list is handy.
For books I would particularly recommend, please continue to read.