I love to read. I read everything: cereal boxes, milk cartons, several newspapers a day, nutrition information on food packages, magazines, fine print on contracts, anything with words.
There are various reasons I read. Sometimes I read for knowledge, sometimes I read for style. At different times I've had favorite authors. For example, when I read One Hundred Years of Solitude and Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel José de la Concordia García Márquez, he was my favorite. Who is/are your favorite author(s)?
Sometimes I am a lazy reader, only reading for escape. Then I choose a mystery, preferably one written by Michael Connelly or John Sanford. I prefer Michael Connelly and hate it when I finish one of his books because I've read all of his books and know that it might be almost a year before he has a new book. It was hard to accept new lead characters in any of his books because I thought Harry Bosch, his character who is a detective in Los Angeles, was my friend. When he introduced a new character, Michael Haller, in the Lincoln Lawyer, I was prepared to dislike him, but bought it anyway. "A trial is a contest of lies. And everybody in the courtroom knows this." Well, I loved him and now I have a new best friend.
All of my books that are signed by the author are kept in a special place. My children know this and I told them that when I die and they clean out the house, do not throw these away.
When I took a Children's Literature course in college we were required to read at least 100 books, including all Newberry and Caldecott Medal winners and the runner-ups. (Since it was a long time ago, there were as many winners.) I was in heaven. Piece of cake.
I must be obsessive compulsive because if I discover a new (to me) author that I like, I have to read every book that person has ever written. Sometimes I'm disappointed by some of the books but I continue my journey to complete my quest.
My friend, the late Dr. Ted, and I read Winds of War and War and Remembrance together. Each night on the telephone we would discuss the story so far. Our spouses didn't quite get it. They thought we were loony and too involved in books.
Several years ago, my eyesight began to dim was told that I needed cataract surgery. I was terrified that during the surgery the doctor would slip and I would never be able to read again. He told me about crystalens, which would improve my vision so much that I wouldn't need glasses. Even though medicare wouldn't pay for it, I thought my eyesight demanded the best, and coughed up the dough to pay.
What a relief. It worked.
Everyone in Las Vegas complains about dust and I was very smug about the fact that I didn't have dust in my home. It was clean. After the surgery, I came home and went to bed. When I awoke that evening I looked at my shiny black night table that held over thirty books on its shelves. It was covered with dust! The books were dusty, too. How could dust appear that quickly? Then I realized something, I had the dust all along, I just couldn't see it. But now, with my crystalens, I saw my house was as dusty as everyone else's home, sort of like my life.