A Conversation about Reading

I have been thinking about books and the way I started to read. I recall a bookstore my mother would take me to in the mall as a child. It is no longer there, and after questioning my mother and doing some research, I learned the store had gone bankrupt along with every other store in the chain.  

It was called Borders, and the sign out front had big bold red lettering. I know the children’s books were in the right back corner of the store and displayed on a square bookshelf. My mother would let me pick out the Rainbow Magic Princess Fairy books that I wanted, and she would buy them for me. But I don’t remember too many other details. I tried asking my younger sister if she remember going to the bookstore in the mall, but she didn’t. This memory seemed to flash into my head just as quickly as the stores closed. They only sold physical books and periodicals, but their rivals Barnes and Nobles and Amazon seemed to have more to offer. It is not uncommon for stores to close because they cannot keep up with bigger chains. If this is where my love of reading began, would it have stopped after the store closed? I remember reading my fairy books fondly while tracing the pictures on the front cover or of the maps inside. Even now when I open a fiction novel and it has a map, I cannot help but think this is going to be a good book, it’s going to take me out of my reality. Obviously, I didn’t stop reading because a bookstore closed. 

I continued to read, and still do today. Maybe around the same time as my mother and I would venture into the Borders bookstore, I was being introduced to books in elementary school. The first-grade version of myself, was definitely a tattletale, eventually I grew up and picked up on social norms. But at the time I followed all the rules, and one of them was to always return a library book on time. I most likely checked out some Rainbow Magic Fairy Books at times, but my more common non-fiction choice was informational books about different dog breeds. I had never owned a dog and at age four I asked if I could have a dog. My father who had never had a childhood pet told me that I had to wait until I was eight years old. However, it wasn’t until age eleven that we got my family dog. These books were a constant reminder to my parents that I really wanted a dog. I’m sure they felt a swell of repent when I pulled the red and white checkerboard bordered book out of my backpack. I wanted them to read with me, I had already read through it and looked at the pictures once. I already knew where to look for them in the library two shelves from the floor on the left side of the room. I would check out the book and then sit in a wooden chair reviewing the dog facts, while my classmates still looked for books to bring home. Even though these books brought home became an unintentional guilt trip for my parents, I think my love of dogs continued my love of reading. I was learning without knowing it that books could provide me with information on anything, and in this case, the dog I really wanted but would not get until years later.  

Did I inherit a gene that made me enjoy literature? My mother never reads, I have never seen her read a book. A few years back she bought a book she wanted to read. I have read that book and returned it to her, and she still has not opened it up. My father reads, not as much now compared to when I was younger, he now has an IPAD with access to Craigslist and baseball videos. Sometimes I get him books as gifts. Typically, Stephen King, he usually reads those books. He reads them at his own pace, sometimes quickly and sometimes if he doesn’t like the book, he won’t finish it. His chair sat near a window with an end table and a telephone that was on top. If it rang, he would answer the phone, placing the book down and readjusting his wire-thin round bifocal glasses. I have to use glasses to see, just like him. Maybe I read because I subconsciously wanted to be more like my father. 

  Until recently I thought all elementary schools has a library class, on the special class rotation just like gym or art class. But turns out I was wrong. My boyfriend, Karl, went to elementary school in another district about thirty minutes away from mine, and while I was reading about dogs, he was participating in another type of special class my district did not offer. He had a gym, art, and music just like us, but they also had a class called creative movements. I was baffled and so curious about this class. Essentially, he explained it was like a drama or acting class. I was not introduced to the theatrical arts until about middle school at a summer camp, and I was not a fan. I don’t think my boyfriend was either, but that could be due to the fact that the teacher was supposably a bitch. He does not currently act, and he reads some but not much. So, I am not sure if elementary school can instill a love for an activity, or not.  

Karl’s mother reads a lot. She knows that I read for enjoyment as well and will brag that she is reading for fun when she knows I have required novels to read for my classes. It is something we have bonded over; I am not sure if our conversations would be as enthusiastic or long if we both did have a love of reading books. Even though Karl did not fully inherit book worm genes from his mother, I wonder if his mother did inherit it from her mother? Maybe I love to read because it creates connections. I can connect to others who also enjoy reading or have read the same books as me.  

I never thought I would become an English teacher; I am not sure I even realized how much I loved reading until I got older. That’s why I am wondering why? Why do I love reading so much? And how did it begin? I am not sure I found one answer, But I wanted to try and think about it, because I want it for other people. It makes me sad when I read a book that I know someone else would love, but they won’t read it. That moment when you realize you have been reading unbothered for hours but completely content. I was hoping I could find out why that came to be, so I can create those experiences for my future students. But instead, I think I found the benefits of reading for myself, and those could be used to inspire others. Or it can just sit here for as long as I continue to sit and read my books, either way my love for reading remains. 

• books
• meditation
• reading