Reading for Life

A passion for reading that travels through a lifetime

Without hesitation, I can say my first grand passion found me at the age of 3 when I walked through the doors of our public library for the first time. In the richness of the hushed atmosphere, the aroma of ink and paper, and the walls lined with shelves of books, I was certain my mother had taken me by the hand and walked me across the street straight into Heaven.

Even at that tender age, I was already well acquainted with the magic of books and stories. My grandmother read to me all the time, mostly from books beyond my age level, like Heidi, and Little Women, and Secret Garden. My grandfather took me to the local drugstore to peruse the magazine stand, and let me pick out copies of all the big glossies, like Life and Look, that I could bring home and “read” to my hearts content - after sniffing them thoroughly, of course, and savoring the pungent smell of ink on slick paper. Yes, I’m a bibliosmiac (book-sniffer.)

Unlike some grand passions that wax and wane over time, here I am, 65 years later, and reading has remained a constant in my life. The ways I read have changed (who could have foreseen Kindle in 1959?) But I still get a thrill when a new book arrives on my front porch or in my downloads. I still love to visit the library and eagerly grab up a bunch of new releases, or go to my own shelves and pick up an old favorite to revisit. 

I was the little girl who read at the table, in the bathtub, on her walk to school, and under the covers with a flashlight. I was the little girl who carried a book everywhere she went, her nose buried in it anytime she had a few minutes to spare. I was the little girl who hurried through her work so she could read the library book tucked at the back of her desk. 

And now? Now, I’m the old lady who still does all those things, although Kindle has eliminated the need for a flashlight under the covers.

Now I usually read at least two, sometimes three books at a time, a combination of fiction and non-fiction. I give myself free permission to stop reading a book if it’s not sustaining my interest.

Now I re-read a lot. Sometimes, I finish a book and go right back to the beginning and read it again. There are a number of books I’ve read at least six times. Crossing to Safety, by William Stegner; Devotion, by Dani Shapiro; and The Universal Christ, by Richard Rohr are a just a few that come to mind.

Now I read  non-fiction religiously every morning when I first wake up, propped up in bed with a multitude of pillows, a heating pad to awaken the stiff bones and muscles in my back with a little neck pillow to support arthritis (told you I was an old lady), a nifty book light for dark winter mornings, and of course, a fresh cup of hot, strong coffee.

Now I read fiction on a Kindle, because fiction is first choice for those middle of the night reads, when I need something to help turn down the ticker tape of thoughts that keeps spooling through my brain. Non-fiction is usually a paper book (a *real* book, I still say) because I like to freely underline, mark up, and comment.

Now my favorite genres of fiction are contemporary literature, mystery, suspense, and some historical although I’ve nearly reached my saturation point with World War II era fiction and finding I’m drawn to a historical fiction set in the time period when I was born and coming of age (1950-1970): Think Bonnie Garmus’ Lessons in Chemistry.

Now I read more non-fiction than fiction: memoir, spirituality, social justice, nature, the craft of writing, collections of journals and letters. Most recently loving the books that bend the form: Think Maggie Smith’s You Could Make this Place Beautiful, and Kerri ni Dochartaigh’s Cacophony of Bone.

Now (well, since 1996) I keep track of the books I read on any given year. Once I kept this list in bound journals (there are three of those on my bookshelves), now, like so much of my life on paper, they’re in the cloud. The Goodreads cloud, to be precise.

Now I read about 100 books a year. Yes, I do the Goodreads challenge.

Now I often copy quotes or passages I want to remember or write about into my Notebook, the one that carries the bulk of my journal type writing. I want to convert this practice of quote-taking into its own container, but I haven’t yet figured out a way to do it that suits me.

I want to read more deeply and intentionally than I did last year, which felt like a haphazard collage of reading just to read, racing through the pages trying to meet the reading challenge deadline. I want to slow down when I read, I want to stop and think about beautifully crafted sentences, or those that share a compelling idea or insight.

I want to read deliberately, and in different places. At home I read in bed, sometimes on the love seat in the living room, often on our deck during the summer, and in the Big Green Chair of my basement library corner in winter. Lately I feel drawn to reading in our town library, where there is a quiet reading room with a fireplace, a coffeepot, and some lovely bright window light pouring in.

I truly believe reading can change minds, hearts, and lives. I believe in Freadom – the right to read anything and everything. I believe books should be made widely available and accessible to every human on the planet, beginning from their earliest age. Thus, I deeply believe in and support libraries – one of my personal Heavens on earth – in schools, communities, and homes.

My grand passion for reading and the written word has companioned me and carried me for almost seven decades of life. Countless times reading has comforted me, taught me, inspired me, excited me, sustained me.

I just can’t imagine a life without it.