Intense Reading

I was looking at the list of some of the books I’ve read over the years at, and I sort of realized something about how I read.

I don’t casually pick up a book, read it, put it down. I invest in my books. I remember what I read–not in the particulars, like the who the characters were and what the plot was–I remember the general atmosphere and feel of the book, and that stays with me. I get transported to different world when I read, each with their own unique feel, and I remember how I felt when I read a book.

My books mean something to me. They are part of my life and my memories. Every year has its particular set of books, and when I look at the books that I read, I get the sense of where I was in life, what I felt, and what I was doing. I remember picking books out of elementary, junior high, and high school libraries. I remember book orders and book fairs and buying new books. I remember discussing books with friends and family. I remember sitting outside and reading until the ending comes and I run around the house because I’m so excited. I remember finishing a book and bawling on the top of my bed for a long time and not being able to breathe. I remember laughing and not being able to sit still.

I love books. I have always loved books. I love all different sorts of books too–young adult, adult, children’s, fantasy, science fiction, historical fiction, biography, memoir, science, math, philosophy, classics, humor, mystery, essay, textbooks, popular fiction, Christian, inspirational, literary, comics, how-to, self help, history, outdoors, realistic, etc. Wonderful, wonderful books.


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