Every Thursday, Booking Through Thursday asks a book-ish question. This week, the question is:
Can you imagine NOT being a Reader? How does it shape your life? Your perception of it?
How does being a Reader affect your relationship with all those folks who are looking at it from the other side and simply can’t understand how you can sit and READ all the time?
Can I imagine not being a reader? No. I cannot even remember what it was like not to read, considering I started reading at the tender age of 4. Reading was always an enjoyable experience for me. It was always a reward and never a punishment.
I think this is do partly in fact that I don’t remember spending a lot of time with my Dad — which I know I did, but my memory is strongest of him and I reading together. We would read from these books that once belonged to my Dad as a child (they even had his crayon marks in them) so they were circa the ’50s. They were a treasury of children’s tales, all preaching some sort of moral lesson with a religious undertone. My Dad reading to me is still one of my fondest memories of my childhood.
My Mom was also a reader, but read a lot of the chic-lit, romance type books. I don’t remember reading WITH my Mom but she was the one to inspire the books that I read, often giving me books to read that she read when she was younger. For example — Nancy Drew. The first Nancy Drew book my mother gave me was “The Clue in the Diary (Nancy Drew, Book 7)“. After reading that, I was hooked. I went on to read most every Nancy Drew book I could get my hands on — often reading through one a day while in the 3rd and 4th grade. (P.S. My Mom’s favorite Nancy Drew book was “The Mystery at Lilac Inn (Nancy Drew, Book 4)“. I read that, too.)
My parents also allowed us to stay up past our bed time (of 8 or 8:30 on a school night) as long as we were reading. To this day, I still read myself to sleep most nights. It was during the beginning of this that my parents put a temporary hold on my reading Nancy Drew because they claimed that I had nightmares, none of which I ever remembered having so I still doubt their story.
Reading with my parents combined with being encouraged by my parents to read (as well as seeing them read) caused me to become the reader that I am. This is so much so that I honestly, even at 29 years of age, cannot fathom why some people do not like to read and I hope, if years down the road my kids have learned ANYTHING from me, is that books are amazing and reading can take you anywhere you want to go.
My husband, though, is not a reader. I admit, it does bug me sometimes, because I’ll read something amazing and want to share it with him and he just has no interest. However if the book goes to movie, he’s all about watching it with me. (I still wish he was a reader, though.) Luckily my mother-in-law is a reader and she often reads a lot of the same books that I do so it’s great to have someone to discuss the latest reads with.
As for what others think about ME reading all the time? I am too busy with my nose stuck in a book to notice. They can think what they want because it is their loss, not mine.
So, what about you? Can you imagine not being a reader (or BEING a reader)?
Does your being a reader (or lack of being a reader) affect the relationships with those around you?