The love of reading

Well you’re not gonna believe this but,

 it’s actually cool.

I didn’t want to disappoint my loyal readers by not starting with the weather.

 Canuck oblige 🙂

So, I was reading A guy’s moleskin notebook (links mattsviews),

 which I discovered thanks to The Lesbrary (also in links),

 and he participates in these, I guess you would call them blog prompters.

 Musings on Mondays and booking through Thursday, stuff like that.

I don’t really want to tie myself down to formulas,

“I gotta be free, I gotta be me”

But,

I like the idea of an occasional jump start.

So, this week the topic is what book started you on your love of reading.

Obviously, I am paraphrasing.

It got me thinking,

 what book do I recall reading as a child, awoke the reader in me?

The truth?

I’m not sure.

I do however ,

remember my mother bringing home a new copy of 

 The Diary Of Anne Frank.

It changed me.

I don’t recall how old I was, still a child, that I know.

I couldn’t believe how cruel people could be.

I believe, that book unleashed a thirst,

 that to this day has not been quenched.

When I was twelve, thirteen I started reading biographies, mostly of famous women.

Eleanor Roosevelt, Marie Curie, Margaret Mead but  also,

 movie stars like Katharine Hepburn and Shelley Winters.

I hardly read biographies any more,

I prefer memoirs, parts of a person’s life from their own very subjective point of view.

Not so interested in the minute details of their childhood.

I like fiction the best.

I have traveled all over the world and through history as well, via fiction.

I’m grateful to my mother for being a reader and for telling me early on,

“When you read you are never bored”

Ain’t it the truth.

Well girls off to read.

Later

BB

Published by

Bookish Butch

I am a bookish butch in my very early fifties. I live in Montréal and always have. I used to run a small used bookstore. Reading keeps me sane. My latest jiggie is photography, book project in the works, living the dream

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