I am a reader and a writer. These things are as much a part of who I am as my heart, and kidneys. My earliest and best memories are of book. A set of Disney books, four large volumes, divided by category; Fantasy, Nature, American History, and Tales from Other Lands. Hundreds of stories were safely kept in those volumes. There were also 'Little Golden Books'. The pictures of Eloise Wilkins made me imagine a better life, a life wear daddies wore sweaters, and mothers were kind. Children were apple cheeked and dogs didn't bite when you pestered them too much. I graduated to Phyllis Whitney's books, written especially for young people. I was proud, because they didn't have pictures. They took place in Scotland, or on a boat, or in the desert. I read constantly. My aunt would laugh and say that I was the only kid she'd ever heard of that would bring a book to read while she watched Saturday morning cartoons, and I did. When I say books changed my life, I mean it. They exposed me to a world I didn't know existed. You can't desire what you don't know. The stories gave me something to desire.
It is the same today. My definition of 'story' has expanded to include good movies. When I read a good book, I'm gone, I'm in another world. I don't read nearly as much as I want to, but I still read at least two or three books a month. That is quite a bit less than the two or three a week that I would like to read, and will when I am an eccentric old lady.
Tonight, when I got home from class, Roser told me I had the night off. He would put the XX5 to bed and take care of homework. I came upstairs and ran a bath and grabbed the newly purchased "Paint it Black" by Janet Fitch, the author of "White Oleander". She is unbelievable. She is the type of author that makes you curse sleeping, and children who need to eat at regular intervals. Her books are dark and bitter and satisfying, like the burnt piece of fat on a grilled steak. She makes me want to write, just to have something in common with her. I want to stay in her sad bleak world. I want to create a world for someone else, and have them want to stay there, to give that gift that I have been given so many times.
2 comments:
I feel sad for the people who are not as passionate about books as you and I are. We all have our own reasons for loving stories. I lament the years I gave up books because my children were so young and so demanding of all of my time. I love that you can slow down your brain enough to paint a word picture for all of us. (It is my mom's brother who is causing all the trouble - my uncle Tom)
Hey Lady, you better put down those books and get to blogging! hee hee. I've been stalking your site for updates wondering when my Cuzanno's gonna give me some more inside scoops.
xo
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