“Reading [is] my escape and my comfort, my consolation, my stimulant of choice: reading for the pure pleasure of it, for the beautiful stillness that surrounds you when you hear an author’s words reverberating in your head.”
Paul Auster, The Brooklyn Follies
There is something to be said about the power that beholds a human being with a pen in their hand.
Surely, most often, their objective is not to create works that bring happiness to people of various ages, that can inspire change, or that hold knowledge that could bring fulfillment to its reader. However, a writer surpasses common script when they choose to do their work with a meaningful purpose that benefits others, and give an outlet for introspection and imagination.
There are far too many examples of writers of this sort to list. However, when a child is given the ability to read these writings that people have put to the feet of the world to pick up and to indulge it can be quite the impetus for something brilliant.
Unfortunately, this is often not taken for granted.
I love reading. But…I remember I hated it. When I was about five years old, I didn’t want any parts of it. Nevertheless, I did love stories. I made them up every day when I would play with my siblings. I loved hearing my mom read them to me. I loved the warm and dreamy feeling they gave me. Thankfully, I eventually became more open-minded, and I graduated to reading chapter books with pictures. I would read about 100 pages every night before I slept, but only because of my academic obligation. When I did finally start reading books without pictures, after much encouragement, everything changed for me. I could see the imagery of the story that the writer was describing, like a movie playing in my mind. It was as if time had stopped. I had entered another world, another universe. Such a powerful object it was, that I was holding in my hands.
It was then that I realized that I loved reading.
Then, I wanted a dog. I begged for it with no letup, and to convince my parents that I was responsible enough to have it, I intensely studied dogs at the age of seven. I knew from how dogs gave birth to dozens of breeds to how to train them. I really enjoyed this, and it satisfied me immensely when I actually did get a puppy two years later. I noticed that I also loved reading nonfiction, and learning about nature and sciences.
Reading and books had become my passion. I would never leave the house without a book. I could read in the car without getting sick, which was probably only due to my determination. I had to start using glasses, which was probably caused by my habit of reading in the dark. There was something about reading that truly brought me happiness. It filled a void in my life that couldn’t be filled in any other way at the time. It gave me a way to escape when I felt that I really wanted to. Someday, I hope I can also provide this feeling for others as well.
Whether it is to give your brain a vacation or to learn something new, I strongly believe that books are vital. I hope that when reading my posts that I can inspire you to read more if you aren’t already a book lover. Since I have been trying to write stories as well, I hope my writing here will be a catalyst for improving my ability to transfer my thoughts properly to paper. There are many other people out there who are like me, who love books and the sheer comfort and joy it brings them. My wish is that as readers and dreamers and savants and believers we keep this love for books alive so the power of literature can influence humanity for generations and generations to come.