I have written a few articles based on my love for reading; I couldn’t make it clearer that reading is my favourite hobby. How I came to love this hobby is a bit of a rollercoaster, though.
Those of you who know me might be surprised to hear that I used to hate reading. Yeah, me, the English major whose studies are entirely based on reading, writing, and analyzing. How could someone who hates reading even think about entering a program that’s centered around heavy reading? It’s a good thing I changed my mind!
I mean, when I was a kid, I had stories read to me, and it was nice. But doing the reading myself was such a chore. My mom, who’s a teacher, always wanted me and my brother to continue reading books so our brains and memories stay sharp. Every summer, even when we travelled to Lebanon for vacation, my mom would give us books to read. My brother didn’t seem to mind it, but I hated it. I wanted to go outside and play with my cousins and friends, watch a movie, or eat cookies. Whatever a kid that age would want to do during the summer holidays, but I was stuck with my nose in a book. Looking back on it now, over 10 years later, I know that I complained way too much. It wasn’t like my mom kept us inside 24/7 with nothing to do but read. It was just an hour a day of reading.
But back then, it felt eternal, and I was always bored out of my mind. So, just to get it out of the way, I would barely read what was on the pages and just skim the book. I still remember the book my mom had me read one summer – The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. I like the story now, but as a kid, I barely paid any attention to it. I simply pretended to read it because in my naïve 7-year-old mind, that was the smart thing to do so I could go play. Of course, I hadn’t realized that my mom would test me on it, asking me questions about the characters and the story just to see if I actually read it. Oops. Yeah, she was pretty upset with me.
By the end of that summer, I still didn’t enjoy reading. It wasn’t until a year or two later that I finally started to see what I was missing.
You see, for half of my time in elementary school, I was verbally bullied. A lot. So naturally, I felt very lonely and sad most of the time. It was around this time that I discovered how fulfilling and enjoyable reading was.
I’d started reading the Harry Potter series, which played a huge and positive impact on my life. When my “friends” decided that they didn’t feel like being around me, I would simply open one of the books during lunch or recess and dive into the magical world of Hogwarts.
But Harry Potter wasn’t the only series that I enjoyed in elementary school. In my school’s library I found a franchise called The Baby-Sitters Club by Ann M. Martin; I was addicted to these books. I didn’t realize it back then, but after my experience at that school, I noticed that the books I read were heavy on themes of love and friendship. They made me feel like I belonged somewhere, that I had real friends. Reading no longer made me feel alone.
Even after I left that school, I continued to read, despite no longer feeling lonely. Reading just became an escape for me, a way to forget reality and live a magical life, from Hogwarts, to the Shire, to Idris, to Camp Half-Blood. Feeling inspired? Let’s open a book. Down in the dumps? I’m going to open to page one. Stressed? I’ll browse my bookshelf.
Upon entering the English program at UWindsor, I was excited. Reading, admittedly, has become difficult. As I’ve stated before, the program requires a lot of heavy reading in several classes. But it also means that I get to read new books. I started growing a fondness over the last couple of years in the program for classics by Charles Dickens, the Bronte sisters, Jane Austen, William Shakespeare, and more. And I have to add that it is my love for reading that inspired me to want to become an author. This love for reading easily sparked a love for writing.
Every time I remember myself as a kid, never wanting to touch a book, I laugh at myself and wonder how I could ever have hated something so wonderful. It’s crazy how important it is to me now. Crazy, but amazing.