Not Simply Paper and Ink

For those of you who know me, you know that one of my biggest passions (now and for the rest of my life) is books. I think the first time I opened a book was the first time I felt true joy. Believe it or not, I didn't start avidly reading until second grade. I'd like people to believe that I've always loved reading and that I am a born natural at it, but that would be a lie. 

In fact, I originally hated reading. I much preferred movies to books. To me as a child, books were a waste of space--why would you want to read something when you could watch it on the big screen? To feel the action and be completely immersed in the movie characters? Movies did all the work for you but books required you to do half the work: it required you to imagine. If you couldn't imagine, all you were left staring at is bound pieces of paper with black ink on them. For some reason, I just couldn't get into books--they bored me as soon as I flipped them open and every time I forced myself to read a novel, I would be gazing raptly at the TV within five minutes of opening the book. 

For my fifth birthday, my aunt bought me a children's novel about cats. You may have heard of Erin Hunter's series Warriors. It's basically about a bunch of talking wild cats that live in the forest. Yeah, that sounds dumb but to children? That's pure genius. Anyways, when I received the book, I tossed it in the nearest corner because like come on, it's a book. 

It wasn't until a year later that I, lazing around in my room and bored out of my mind, picked up the book and decided to give it a shot. I didn't plan on getting past the first page. In fact, I thought I would quit after the first paragraph. 

But something strange happened. I felt like was pulled into a completely different world, a world where I was with the main character. I could feel what they felt, I could see what they saw, and I could do what they could do. I ended up finishing up that novel within three hours and hungry for more, requested the rest of the series from the local library. 

Something was awakened in me. I wanted to read everything after that first book in the Warriors series--everything. Books were no longer simply paper and ink. No, those pages were alive with action, adventure, and romance. My imagination was alive. I wanted to launch myself between alternate universes and live the lives of very different characters. I wanted to experience what they felt, do what they did. But perhaps what I craved the most was the epiphanies that really good books gave me. For example, after I read The Boys in the Boat by Daniel James Brown (a book about the Washington college boys who went to the 1936 Olympics), I felt enlightened and wiser. Going through the journey of how the boys got together in the beginning, their individual lives and habits, their goals and wishes, their victorious win at Berlin, and finally, their passing into the next world, made me feel like I got somewhere. Like I somehow took in the life lessons they learned as the book progressed. 

I still love reading. It will forever be an escape and a solace when I'm feeling down or upset. Of course, anything in excess is not good for you and that probably pertains to reading, too. (So maybe reading three full-length novels in one day is not good). But it's comforting to know that I will always have something to run to for the rest of my life.