Sunday, January 8, 2012

A beginning.

I've always loved reading.. all my life, I can't think of anything else I've ever enjoyed as much as sitting down to a good book. Of course, life has brought me many other joys and I'm not making them less important - I just mean, books have always been there in my life. They've been a source of comfort and safety for me even since I was a child.
I was not a confident child, and I was utterly and unbelievably scared of the dark. This might have been caused by my older brother's desire to continuously torture and tease me (because he loved me, of course..)  or because of my over active imagination, but either way, I was unable to sleep most nights if I had to sleep alone.
Anyway, if I wasn't able to sleep, I would usually turn to the only thing that could take my mind off the terrors in my subconscious. I would read, sitting in my bed with a lamp on, hoping nobody would wake up and tell me to turn off my light. I would read, quietly, until around 6 in the morning, when my mom would wake up. Little me thought that since my mom was awake, I'd be safe. I'd close my book, put it under my pillow, and sleep for the hour or so I could before I was woken up for school. My family always wondered why I'd fall asleep at breakfast.
The book that I can remember saving me from crying myself to sleep every night was Inkheart, a wonderful story that my 12 year old self cherished and re-read every night, finding comfort in the story of another young girl that loved reading as much as I did.
Inkheart, by Cornelia Funke
There was something about this book that just drew me to it, I couldn't put it down, and even after reading it once, I wasn't tired of it - I'd read it over, and over until the pages were worn. Thankfully, it had a gorgeous hardcover, and I treated it kindly, partly because of the girl's father in the book, since he was a book binder, and fixed old spines on books that had been mistreated. It was this book that taught me how to respect and cherish books.
This wasn't the first book I'd read, far from it. I grew into my love for reading very early in life, but this one is definitely one of the most memorable from my childhood. I remember sitting in bed and having my parents read to me, and I quickly graduated to reading to myself, even trying my hand at writing my own story when I was 11, but I didn't get very far.

Anyway, the purpose of this blog is simply to keep track of the books I am currently reading, and setting into stone (although writing a blog doesn't really do justice to that saying) the books that I remember from my past. I thought I'd start with Inkheart simply because of it's symbolism: Meggie, the main character, falls into a different world with her father, she and her father are 'silvertongues' when they read aloud, they or the people around them are transported into the book, and the characters come to life. How often when I was little did I wish I could disappear into the world of the book I was currently reading? I could go to Hogwarts with Harry (the first book was an amazing gift from my mother for my 12th birthday) - I grew up with those books, aging along with the characters, and they will always hold a strong place in my life, but that goes without saying.
In the end, books hold a sense of magic with me, and they are something that I will never tire of.. sometimes, I wish I could collect every book in the world (like the aunt in Inkheart, my life always seems to come back to this book), or have the chance to hold a truly ancient book.. maybe my love for literature is what drove me to study ancient history.

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