I love to read. I don’t do as much of it as I would like but the love is still there. My husband can vouch for this because he is the one who has to lift the truckload of boxes of them every time we move house. Note – as a property developer and responsible for our many many house moves (15 in the past 19 years), he has been banned from complaining about it.
If you look at my bookshelf you a colourful array of paper and hardbacks – fiction from various genres and authors, biographies and non-fiction gems. Plus you will see a whole lot of How to transform your life in 10 easy steps books. And I mean a whole lot! I am drawn to them like a kitten to a ball of wool. Bring your attention back to me now because I know you now have delightful images of fluffy kittens floating around in your head. Facebook is full of cute kitten images so you can go get your fix later.
Back to my book collection.
While there is nothing wrong with all my quick fix books, I have forgotten what a joy it is to read for fun. This is a complete tragedy for a Literature Major and budding writer and someday-one-day-maybe author. The passion I once had for fiction had disappeared and I was obsessed with only those books who promised to magically transform me into someone else by the end of the final chapter. Heavens forbid that I do something purely for the sake it hey.
So yesterday I took myself off to Audible to prepare for my upcoming overseas trip and download several audio books – my final selection were all imagination and no fixin. OK – there was one fixin one but that was Brene Brown’s latest book, narrated by her which of course doesn’t count. You know how I feel about her (and if you don’t, just ready some of my past blogs and you’ll understand). And by the way, Brene says absolutely nothing about fixing anyone in her books – she’s a big advocate of the idea that we are all perfect just the way we are.
I also ventured into a Bookshop – yes they still exist – and forked out for not one, but two fiction masterpieces from the Top 100 best novels of all time. I don’t know who created this list but I figured I’d go for it anyway. In case you are interested, they are; A Little Life by Hanya Yanigihara and All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr. I’ll let you know what I think once I’m done.
Once I’m done I’ll let you know how they are (the books) and how I am. I just had a little thought – wouldn’t it be ironic if I actually got more for myself out of these fiction novels than all the self-help manuals I have been drowning in for the past few years. Too funny!