Between the Covers of a Book

Thank you to all of you that left such nice comments about “my story”. I admit to being a little wary about posting it; I wasn’t sure if it was too long or too personal or too this or too that. [How easy it is to let the mind run wild!] But really, your kind words mean so much to me!
For some reason, the title of this post reminds me of one of my favorite TV shows as a kid—Reading Rainbow. Seems like there was something in the theme song about “between the covers of a book.” Hmm. Anyway, speaking of books… I spent my day surrounded by them, as I was called in as a sub for our local library (you may recall that I fleetingly worked there last fall). It was a very loooong six and a half hour shift, but somehow I got through it. Let’s just say looking to make sure unreturned books were not accidentally placed on the shelf is a very tedious task. Honestly, I wondered more than once during the endless afternoon why I bothered to take the job at all. But now that it’s over I am glad that I did. It all worked out okay in the end. :)

In many ways, it was also a bit of a nostalgic task. Books have been on my mind a lot lately. Just by mere coincidence, I stumbled across this blog yesterday, in which the blogger—a bona fide author and VERY avid reader herself—often shares her love for many of the books I enjoyed as a child. Then as I spent the greater part of my day assigned to the young adult literature section, I was surrounded by hoards of books—both old and new, read and unread—that reminded me of the many times I wandered those same shelves as a child and teen, carefully seeking just the right stack of books. Yes, I said stack—maybe more like pile, now that I think of it. You see, I loved to read when I was younger. It is only in the past couple years that my passion for devouring the written word has all but ceased. I rarely read now-a-days. I say all of this rather regretfully, because books used to be such a delicious escape for me. I cannot fathom the hours and hours I spent surrounded by the worlds, adventures, and people that can only be discovered on those friendly and unassuming pages. I met friends like Anne, Betsy, Cherry, Sue, Jo, Laura…and so many countless others (many great ones which I am sure I have unwillingly omitted here). The fact that I had few friends in my real life—save my family—made these lively individuals all the more endearing to me. When I was upset, oftentimes I used to escape to my room and seek refuge in the worlds of these lovely stories. After a reading for a while, I would start to feel better and could emerge again, renewed and ready to face my reality.

I wonder sometimes why I don’t read anymore. Is it because the lure of other technology (especially computers) diverts my attention? Is it because I have less concentration and patience than I used to? Have I just simply gotten out of the habit? I think it is definitely a combination of all three, and perhaps even some other factors. For example, many of the books I used to really love were for younger audiences and perhaps they would no longer hold my attention. Thinking about some of those stories now, many almost seem too happy and simplistic. But I also remember the deeper and conflicting moods that heroines such as Betsy and Emily (if I am remembering correctly) went through. Now that I am experiencing some of that same “growing up confusion”, perhaps I would have a greater understanding and appreciation for these stories. I think I just may venture into those friendly worlds again and find out!

I especially love old books—probably for the same reason I like old TV shows, old movies, and vintage-inspired clothing. Must just be something in my blood. But, really, there is something incomparable and wholly comforting in the sturdy bindings, thick textured paper, chunky letter type, and sweet musty aroma that comes with old books. To say nothing for the stories! Which I find far superior to many of the gaudy tomes that flash off the press today. Not that I shun new literature; there are some truly delightful authors at work today—and probably even more that I am unaware of. But “chick-lit” like Gossip Girl, the Twilight series, or the Princess Diaries books just aren’t my thing. Then again, I’ve never read any of those, so perhaps I shouldn’t be so quick to cast judgment. I guess it is mostly the content that I oppose in that style of literature; I just get the impression that it is dirty, cheap, flaky, and unsubstantial. But that’s a whole other conversation.

So, now that I’ve given my two cents (more than that probably!) on reading, what’s your opinion? Were there any books that you especially loved as a child? Do you still read any of them? What books do you like now?

Books are such a wonderful thing, aren’t they? Please share your favorites!

I meant to say something in this post about Holy Thursday—I actually had some thoughts on my mind regarding this (for some reason I always come up with a million blog ideas while I am in Mass…with nary a scrap of paper or a pencil in site to remember them. Darn distractions!)—but since I already have a sort of topic going with this post, I’ll just go with that. :) Maybe tomorrow…

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“The failure to read good books both enfeebles the vision and strengthens our most fatal tendency—the belief that the here
and now is all there is.”  ~Allan Bloom