I shouldn't be buying books faster than I could read. But every time I'm at a Barnes and Noble (or any bookstore for that matter), physically or online, I seem to morph into this irrational entity driven only by impulse. To say that I'm addicted to stories and well thought-out narratives is an understatement. While most people couldn't remember the last book they've read, I couldn't recall a time when I didn't have a book in my hand (or bag).
When I was a child, I would spend hours cooped up in my tiny room following Nancy Drew inside moss-covered mansions and old attics. In highschool I put down my mystery novels and immersed myself in stories of love and heartaches. And even though I had to devote much of my time poring through medical books in college, I didn't turn my back on Robert Ludlum, Tom Clancy, and Sidney Sheldon who I was just getting acquainted with at that time. Nor did I snob the classical Russian (and American) writers that my Literature teacher exposed me to. Even when I was supposed to be studying for the licensure exam, I found myself picking up odd books written by lesser-known authors.
Reading is more than just an escape. I crave for books as much as athletes desire physical activity. I don't read to pass the time, I read because I want to. I long to. There have been instances when I felt deprived because my schedule didn't allow me even a chapter or two. Initially I thought that this desire to be cocooned within the pages of a book rather than be at a bar with friends is a clear indication that I'm antisocial by default because clearly I'm more excited about the former than the latter.
A friend asked me what types of books I gravitate towards. There's no easy answer. I read anything I can get my hands on. From the Bible to the classics to those written by newly-published authors. I also tend to read reviews before I buy a book. Whenever someone recommends a particular title, I read the first (and maybe also the second) chapter before I decide to commit to it. Sometimes I pick something simply because of the buzz surrounding it (like the Hunger Games) and more often than not, I regret those decisions. There's nothing more frustrating than spending time (and money) reading a poorly-written book. And then there's the Book Club. No, I am not a member of one but a friend of mine is. She would tell me what book they're currently reading and I would check it out. Truth be told, I have yet to be impressed by any of their choices.
Book clubs, in my opinion, are for people who need an excuse to gather around in someone's living room and eat cupcakes. I acknowledge the fact that some people find themselves in book clubs because they want to start getting into the habit of reading. Good for them. I probably wouldn't mind joining a club so much if it didn't involve me having to defend my opinions about a book. Every reader's experience is personal. There are things that I look for in a book before I can say it's a good read, things which you may not even care about. Another thing that peeves me is the part where you have to discuss the characters and their nuances, the significance of every event, and the emotions the author was trying to convey. Unless you are dissecting a complicated piece like one of Shakespeare's plays or something important like exchanging insights about Bible verses or you are studying for a Literature class, I don't see the point of sitting in one's living room, eating cupcakes and discussing Little Bee by Chris Cleave. And no, I have nothing against cupcakes. My perceptions are bound to change, as they often do, but for now I don't see myself in a club reading a book picked out for me by someone who thinks that Suzanne Collins is a brilliant writer.
Book clubs, in my opinion, are for people who need an excuse to gather around in someone's living room and eat cupcakes. I acknowledge the fact that some people find themselves in book clubs because they want to start getting into the habit of reading. Good for them. I probably wouldn't mind joining a club so much if it didn't involve me having to defend my opinions about a book. Every reader's experience is personal. There are things that I look for in a book before I can say it's a good read, things which you may not even care about. Another thing that peeves me is the part where you have to discuss the characters and their nuances, the significance of every event, and the emotions the author was trying to convey. Unless you are dissecting a complicated piece like one of Shakespeare's plays or something important like exchanging insights about Bible verses or you are studying for a Literature class, I don't see the point of sitting in one's living room, eating cupcakes and discussing Little Bee by Chris Cleave. And no, I have nothing against cupcakes. My perceptions are bound to change, as they often do, but for now I don't see myself in a club reading a book picked out for me by someone who thinks that Suzanne Collins is a brilliant writer.
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| “There is something about words. In expert hands, manipulated deftly, they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move, they pierce your skin, enter your blood, numb your thoughts. Inside you they work their magic.” ― Diane Setterfield, The Thirteenth Tale |
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