I love reading. I started reading when I was 4. My dad said he taught me, but I distinctly remember teaching myself. I recall asking my mother what this word “ta-he” was, and feeling ecstatic that finally I knew that this word that appeared so many times was “THE”! Also I remember asking my mom how you knew when to read it the word “a” as a long “aye” or a short “ah”- I thought the word changed meanings according to how you said it. But she couldn’t figure out what I was talking about, so I dropped it. I was reading adult novels by 7 or 8, and haven’t stopped since. With the advent of the internet and tons of tv stations, I slowed down a lot, but lately I’ve rediscovered the joy of a daily read of a good novel. I tell my kids that the way I got so smart was by reading, and I really believe that to be true. Studies show a direct correlation between reading young and intelligence (even if it’s just Danielle Steele and the * Flowers in the Attic* books when you’re 11).
Right now I’m reading * Middlesex* by Jeffrey Eugenides, fiction about a hermaphrodite and his Greek family that immigrated to Detroit. I really like it so far. I grew up in Michigan, albeit far north of the Motor City, plus the book is very well-written and absorbing. Before this I read The Glass Castle, a memoir by Jeannette Walls. I’m only mentioning it because I highly recommend it- it was heartbreaking yet uplifting.
Currently:
Driving Mr. Albert: A Trip Across America with Einstein’s Brain by Michael Paterniti
Modern Classic Short Novels of Science Fiction by Gardner R. Dozois
The Third Reich in Power by Richard Evans
Solomon Kane by Robert E. Howard
and about six or eight other books that I am reading in so far as I have a bookmark where I last closed them and haven’t moved them to the donation box yet.
I love reading too. Books are my oldest friends. Words on paper always made so much more sense to me than words floating out in space, and they still do.
I am reading Terry Pratchett. I just finished Equal Rites and am about to start the next in that series of stories. Pratchett isn’t just hysterical–he’s a superb writer. I love how dynamic his works are – the tone of Color of Magic is starkly different from Small Gods. And I can relate to his perception of the world–a series of crazy things happening to unwitting, unskilled protagonists. Finally, his works are valuable as pure escapist fantasy. I’m devouring these books like candy.
Currently reading Jim Crace’s Being Dead which I am thoroughly enjoying despite the fact I’m only 30 pages in. I’ve read some of his others The Gift of Stones and Quarantine and thought they were pretty good, but there is a force to his writing in Being Dead that seems to measureably outstrip them both.
Previously I’ve just finished Iain Bank’s The Crow Road. Also highly recommended even though I spent about half the book waiting for it to develop something resembling a plot.
Just After Sunset by Stephen King (I’m about 1/3 of the way through “N.”, which so far, promises to be the scariest story in the book). I’m also reading Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal by Christopher Moore.
I got Just After Sunset too, and I’m finding that instead of reading it all in one sitting, I’m parceling it out, like a box of Godiva chocolates…rich and yummy, but if you eat them too fast they’ll be gone.
After I’m done with that, I’ll dive back into The Bloody Bozeman. Written by the lady who wrote The Legend of Liberty Vance, it’s a history of the gold rush in Montana, and all the interesting characters who left home to try to make their fortune, and the families who came with them, and the people who worked for or against them.