Books and I have had a tumultuous relationship over the years — an on-again/off-again love affair commensurate with the volatility of Ross and Rachel (though slightly less annoying). What if we were to invent time travel for the express purpose of asking myself at various ages what my present opinion was on books? Well, beyond being an exceptionally terrible use of resources, it’d probably go a little something like this:
Baby Mark: “Blurgh bla… mo mo mo pffftghst.”
Young child Mark: “I love to read! In first grade I was in the advanced reader’s group. I liked Frog and Toad stories, they were funny. As I get older, I like Charlotte’s Web, James and the Giant Peach, The Hardy Boys, Jumanji, The Trumpet of the Swan, Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, Dr. Seuss, etc. — and I sometimes stay up way too late reading and get a little in trouble for it.”
Late elementary school Mark: “I like to make movies! Stop-motion stuff is really cool. I still read sometimes, though mostly for school.”
Jr. High Mark: “Ugh… why do we have to analyze and study all of these books? Some of them are okay, but all of these reports are so annoying.”
Early high school Mark: “Animal Farm is pretty cool. Shakespeare is so stupid, who cares? I liked Of Mice and Men and To Kill a Mockingbird, even though I already saw the movies and they are really great. I only read if I have to for school, though, and even then — I get away with as little as I can.
Later high school Mark: “I’m going to shoot my head off if we have to keep reading about these idiots in The Great Gatsby. Shakespeare again?? What’s this poem… ‘The Red Wheelbarrow’? It doesn’t mean anything! Stop analyzing everything! Ugh, let’s go watch a movie.”
And that was it. My experiences in school tarnished my affection for books to such a degree that it was years until I aspired to try reading for pleasure again. Even then, there were starts and stops. Several times I bent my will to the dream of being a prolific reader, consuming great tomes and enjoying all that I came across. But I often wore myself out on these ventures, reading a couple of books that I enjoyed, followed by a couple that I did not until my interest in the written word had deteriorated once again.
This year, however, things have been different. Perhaps it’s because I’m recently engaged, or because I’m eyeballing my 37th birthday coming down the track, but I felt that I was ready — not only that I should try reading again for pleasure, but that I could. The weekend before New Year’s Eve, I shared my personal challenge to read again with Sydney, and she eagerly opted to join me. She promptly signed up for a Goodreads account, and I dusted off my old profile, which had itself felt the ebb and flow of my reading interests, from previous attempts at enjoying fiction to an academic turn of adding only non-fiction books to my list. We each spent some time that night adding to our personal “Want to read” lists, and then we took a visit to my local library on New Year’s Eve before they closed (we party hard, I tell ya).
I had a tough time making a decision on a book once we were there. This was just a blind visit, and I went in ready to just pick up some random choice from the Classics section or elsewhere — but I froze. Faced with a growing dread and frustration, I simply couldn’t figure out where to start. “I don’t enjoy reading,” I’d hear echoing in my head as I perused the shelves, and every synopsis and title began to run together into a blur of “meh” responses.
Fortunately, I was not there alone 🙂
Sydney had selected a graphic novel and what turned out to be a collection of spooky short stories, and she sat waiting patiently as I flustered myself in the aisles. I finally broke down and asked for her help; not that Sydney is a literary master adept at choosing the perfect piece of literature for any given mood, but what I needed from her was simply to hold my hand before I wigged out and started burning books in confused chaos.
Thankfully, she was my steady rock in this instance and the library still stands.
Sydney made a random selection from the Classics section, which we’d perused through several times already, and it sounded like it could be fun, so we went with it. The book she’d chosen for me, A Confederacy of Dunces, proved to be an absolute blast of a read: insane characters, absurdity growing upon absurdity, and not long into the story did I get to let Sydney know that she had chosen stupendously! The read started off a little slowly, and so I looked up what others suggested was a good length of time to spend with a book before realizing it wasn’t worth continuing. I found my answer (general consensus is 50-100 pages), but I thankfully didn’t need to make use of it. I made my way through all 400+ pages and gave it a 4 out of 5 stars!
My reading venture was off to a great start, and we’re just beginning. I also read Sydney’s graphic novel before she took it home with her, and wasn’t so much a fan — but that was fine, and it didn’t scare me off of reading for all time. I decided to finish reading A Game of Thrones next, a story that I had very much enjoyed when I first started reading it years ago, only to remember after checking the book out last month that I actually had finished it. It was no matter, though, as I figured it would be a good refresher to read it before continuing on to the second book in its series. That struck off another great accomplishment, though: I re-read a book! I’ll re-watch movies that I love, but now I’ve done the same with a book (A Game of Thrones = 5/5, by the way), and to several of those younger Mark’s we visited above that would be an unfathomable waste of time.
Storytelling is storytelling, and while my tastes will dictate which stories I am drawn to and enjoy or not, I am glad to have finally seemed to unshackle myself from the self-imposed struggle to enjoy reading. Sydney and I set personal goals on our Goodreads accounts, a benefit of starting up at the start of the new year, and I have given myself the goal of 7 for 2019. I’ll be in the world of dragons and kings and fantasy for a while, but finishing this series by year’s end will mean that I hit my goal.
Not that it matters, though, because I am reading again — and quite enjoying myself in the process 🙂
P.S. – It is oft suggested that one of the best ways to improve one’s writing is by reading, so if my newfound interest in reading again is of any clue… there may just happen to be a new short story in the works here at Mushakian, Inc..
P.P.S. – Mushakian, Inc. doesn’t really exist.