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Read. Finish. Repeat.

I like to read. A lot.

I read voraciously, yet delicately. I read like a hungry food critic eats - he knows he's supposed to be evaluating the meal, but at the same time, eating is about satisfying a primal urge, sustaining life. It's more than just about the flavor or texture or ingredients - it's about the very fabric of life itself. This is what reading is.

When I read, I do so for pleasure - it's true. Because it is a genuine pleasure to read and enjoy the very act of reading. To call my reading an "escape" or a method of avoiding the world is disingenuous and incomplete. When I read, I am still aware of the world. I'm just cognizant of it on a different plane. I form a specific image of the written world, playing it out in my mind in a way that is not dissimilar from watching it on the screen. At times, I am the principal actor. But mostly I'm just a bystander. Sometimes, on some very intimate occasions, I get to inhabit the very thoughts of the people I'm reading about... Those times are very delicious and satisfying, if rare.

I have a friend who said to me that she only reads a book once. She knows how it ends, so why bother reading it again? To me, that's ridiculous. Do I only ever eat a delicious, satisfying meal once? Do I only enjoy watching a film once? Do I only ever go to my favorite places, just once? It's almost a deal-breaker. I almost don't know how to connect with someone who doesn't relish the idea of devouring books repeatedly. Each time I read Les Miserables or the First Circle or The Dark TOwer series, it's like greeting old friends. And, like greeting an old friend, I get to know more and deeper about them as we share experiences together.

I have another friend who doesn't like to read. She's just plain nuts. ;)

I have many other friends who only read self-help books, or non-fiction, or job-skills related books. I find that they occupy a very different world, and I really do have a hard time relating to them. Their lives are so practical and rigid and static... It's almost like we haven't anything in common at all, even our own humanity.

I had another friend who wanted to just get together with me and read. Just sit next to me and read, occasionally interrupted by our contented sighs. She was lovely. I hope that, wherever she is today, she's got her nose in a book, a Dr Pepper by her side, and her legs wrapped in a cuddly blanket.

That's a happy thought.

Comments

lillysmum said…
Book, Check (The Price of Inequality by Joseph Stiglitz), Dr. Pepper, check, blank about legs, check (red fleece). Yep, sounds like a lovely evening to me. ;)

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