Defragmenting my brain.

October 18, 2010 at 6:55 pm | Posted in day to day | 2 Comments
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I used to love reading. My mother and father read aloud to my sister and I – I remember distinctly lying on the floor in my parents’ bedroom listening in horror as my father read the beginning chapters of Harry Potter: Goblet of Fire, my imagination following his every word, conjuring the image of an evil pet snake slithering on the floor next to the Dark Lord.

In the sixth grade when my parents separated I began my quest to check out the most books of any student from the school library (I was under the impression that should I accomplish this feat I might be rewarded with a certificate). I spent lunch hours on the grass in front of my classroom instead of joining the customary handball games on the playground. My teacher – probably tipped off by my mother about my middle class adolescent turmoil – called me inside. If you want to talk…

7th grade. A new school. Fresh divorce. New library.

I wrapped myself in Tamora Pierce. I wanted to live in Tortall. I wanted Kel, George, and Alana to be my friends. But they stayed in my head, as I knew they had to.

8th grade. During one of my frequent wanderings through Barnes and Noble, I spot nearly an entire bookcase ruled by one author. Nora Roberts. I’m drawn to her awesome proliferation. I prick my finger on that first book, inundate the local libraries with holds on every Roberts book they had or could have shipped to them.

9th grade. I perched on the concrete wall outside the school, engrossed in Stephen King’s IT, as my classmates and I waited for the bus to take us to retreat.

And then I went to college and characters were shelved for Headings, clinical analysis, required fact finding.

My love for scripted television was one I could nourish between classes or research papers. A hallmate got me a few books for my birthday, which I lumbered through dutifully – even with a little remembered pleasure for the pasttime.

But it wasn’t until I left college – 2 years early, no degree – and moored myself with no bearings in a summer where I was expected to map my Way Back to a future – that I started reading again. Really reading.

In a new town. No friends. No school. No job. No schedule. I spent my time in the local libraries under the guise of being productive. In the past I preferred Barnes and Noble’s current stock to a library’s outdated, limited shelves. I also had Birthday and Christmas gift cards to feed my desire to own books.

With no disposable income and no storage for clothing let alone books, I found my reacquaintance with libraries to be less jarring than I’d expected. I put popular books on hold (current position 40 of 175 for The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest; 70 of 190 for The Hunger Games) and judged books by their covers – picking those off the shelves who were most successful at peacocking.

I also found my relationship with reading to have changed.

I used to escape into books. Now I use them to unknot my brain. Defragment. I sit in my car, recline my seat, and power through Sarah Addison Allen’s The Sugar Queen in one sitting. I’m draining my car battery – door open to keep the lights on  – so I can finish the last chapter as the sunlight is whisked away with my afternoon.

But I feel good. Just what the chiropractor ordered. Brain massage.

And when I close the cover on the last words, I feel righted.


Note: recent books finished

Fried Green Tomatoes and the Whistle Stop Cafe by Frannie Flagg (f)
The Sugar Queen by Sarah Addison Allen (f)
Friday Night Lights by H.G. Bissinger (nf)
Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy by Donald b. Kraybill (nf)
The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova (f)
I’m a Believer by Jessica Adams (f)
The True Story of Hansel and Gretel by Louise Murphy (f)
The Profiler by Pat Brown (nf)


An open letter to book publishers everywhere.

June 22, 2009 at 7:57 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment
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Dear Publisher,

I’m someone who blows a lot of money on books. Books I buy because I’m in the aisle and on either side shelf upon shelf offers me hours of insight into a new world for $7.99. Those short sexy blurbs on the back like little black things seducing the reader to open the spread and jump right in. But, see, Publisher if you leave that little black thing out there’s nothing to entice me into bed. I have to thumb through the pages looking for a taste of what’s to come, reading the actual product which is like revealing whats in the box inside the box inside the box inside the box no unwrapping necessary. Continue Reading An open letter to book publishers everywhere….

Bookworm, yes. But the fluffy kind.

July 12, 2008 at 9:05 pm | Posted in day to day | 5 Comments

stolen from Tender Lumpling.

This is a list of the 100 most printed books by Big Read. They theorize that the average adult has only read 6 of the books on the list. Compare the 100 most printed Big Read novels to the 100 best-loved novels. Winner, Lord of the Rings. Shakespeare, who dat?

1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicize those you intend to read.
3) Underline the books you LOVE.
4) Bracket books you have started but not finished.
5) Strike books you will never read, barring school or Judgement Day requirements.

*Note: I could indicate that I intend to read ALL of these books. Which would be partly true. I’ve intended to read every book ever published since my seventh grade pact with myself that I would read the entire school library’s fiction collection before I graduated (never happened, though I devoured a few shelves). And while this may tag me as a BAD PERSON, I like to read fluff. I am quite attracted to it. I’m partial to big fluffy romance and action novels. Jane Eyre may write a masterpiece but she’s certainly not a quickie. Continue Reading Bookworm, yes. But the fluffy kind….

They Caught a Predator: I am a book molester.

July 6, 2008 at 11:56 am | Posted in Random Thoughts | 1 Comment
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A post secret confession.

The internet constantly reminds me that I am not alone.
Which is a nice and creepy cocktail all in one.

The above “secret” is just one of the many tidbits clinging to my synapses.

When I go into bookstores I often end up molesting the books; that is – i like to run my fingers over the covers  and the raised text, over all the books I can only afford to caress. The other day another customer, a woman, told her companion, “I can’t decide what to buy.”  and she asked me, “What are you buying?”
Sigh. “Everything.” Continue Reading They Caught a Predator: I am a book molester….

I was thinking (and how did that go for you?): Romance Novels, Accidental Homicide, Pregnancy Tests.

July 3, 2008 at 11:21 am | Posted in Random Thoughts | 2 Comments
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My thoughts in bullet form.

  • I’ve relapsed. I slipped a week or so ago, thought I had a hold on it, but last night I knew for sure that I was in trouble. I am addicted to cheese – that is terribly plotted- ijusthrewupinmymouth dialogued- repetitive and predictable by the slowest of us – romance novels. God. I picked up the habit in tenth grade. I needed something to read and by golly Nora Roberts had half a bookstore to herself. I was a little awed, a little jealous. By the end of sophomore year I’d read every Roberts book in the local libraries (and had them placed on hold and transferred if the library was understocked; I throw myself into my habits to the point of self harm*). I moved on to Mary Higgens Clark. Then Nicholas Sparks. youjusthrewupinyourmouth. I know. Don’t kick me while I’m down. Continue Reading I was thinking (and how did that go for you?): Romance Novels, Accidental Homicide, Pregnancy Tests….

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