Hi, my name is (the)Nik, and I was once a voracious reader.
My affair with reading didn’t start as a very young child. It came a little later, that first summer I spent in Maine with my grandparents. That first rainy day, trapped indoors with two grandparents who had their noses stuck in novels… On that day, we completely immersed ourselves in the far away place of the written word. I was eight years old. It was the first time I’d been away from mother. All the way on the other side of the country no less, and it was the first time I’d been given free reign over what to do with my time. I sat curled up next to my grandmother, whom I’m pretty sure I already idolized, with a very old first edition copy (that’s all they had) of something from their bookcase. I am sad that I can’t recall what book it was, but I’m pretty sure it was a Hardy Boys mystery. They had a big open room downstairs next to the kitchen, with a couch that had more broken springs than not, and an old wood burning stove in the middle of the room to take the chill out of the air. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was the kind of place that dreams were made of. Summers in Maine were idyllic.
As the years passed, I looked forward most to those rainy summer days cooped up in my grandparents’ summer house. I’d actually hope for a few rainy days. I usually brought five books or so with me in my suitcase from California, and sometimes I’d even have to make my way into “town”, Blue Hill, to a tiny bookstore (thus the inception of my love for quaint independent bookstores). The way we all cozied up quietly immersed in whatever story we were reading, it could only lend to a great affair with reading and books. Of all my memories with my grandparents, those days with such remote conversation are my most cherished.
I’d come home from Maine exhausted every summer. I’d stay up way too late reading, and I was up early with the sun because I didn’t want my grandparents to feel I was lazy. There were no clocks in their summer home. There were books stacked up in every room, though. I can still close my eyes and smell those old musty books they’d acquired while antiquing every summer.
But lately, since having a child…I read far, far less. Last year, in fact—confession time—I only logged six books completely read. I’m embarrassed for myself, and I want to get back into my groove (as I’ve said every year since his birth).
So this year, I’m pledging to double that to 12 books. Not necessarily one book a month, because some months won’t allow for that and some books might be read much more quickly than a month. I figure it’s a good challenge, though, and maybe one I’ll even surpass. I just need to get back to double digits. I might even do a few audio books on the road trips we have planned cross-county. I’ve never done an audio book, but since some of my favorite living voracious readers today do them, there must be no shame in them! So, I’ll give them try. Anything to rekindle my affair with reading, really.
I’m currently really quite enjoying A Visit from the Good Squad. I’ve been under the weather the last couple days, and I’ve used every spare moment to rest with this book. It’s that good.
So, I ask you, what are you reading currently? What’s on your nightstand to be read? Who is your favorite author? Let’s jive about books.