What could be a better way to spend a sleepy-eyed Sunday morning than a cosy chitchat about books? So curl up, get comfy, and join in!
We all have a certain writer that we find ourselves inexpricably drawn to - a writer we connect with on an intellectual, emotional, or even spiritual level. Being able to form a truly personal connection with a person we've never met is one of the most beautiful aspects of reading.
We're often worlds apart from the writers we love. We occupy different spaces in terms of gender, race, socio-economic background, or even state of consciousness, with many of our favourite writers having been dead for years!
Yet, the relationship between writer and reader is one of the most intimate there is. The writer pours part of themselves onto the page and the reader brings their words to life, infusing them with their own shades of meaning.
“The act of reading is a partnership. The author builds a house, but the reader makes it a home.” Judi Picoult, Between the Lines
But it's not only the words which weave themselves into our consciousness, but the physical memories of where we were when we read them become precious memories too.
I remember thorny branches poking my side as I pored over Harry Potter from the heights of a pink-tinged Magnolia tree. I remember the sting of sharp-edged pages crashing onto the bridge of my nose as the hot sun melted the glue binding my flimsy copy of The Lord of the Rings. And then there was the time I sustained inumerable bruises from crashing into display stands as I shuffled nose-deep in Roald Dahl's Esio Trot during a overly long shopping trip.
Reading always leaves a physical impression on us: a crank in the neck from lying down horizontally, a twinge in the wrist after reading into the early hours, and pins and needles from propping oneself up on spindly elbows.
So why do we put ourselves through the discomfort?
Because the act of reading is never wasted. The times we've spent absorbed in books have been weaving us into the people we are today and their influence, whether discernable or not, continues to shape us long after we've put the book down to rest our aching limbs.
So over to you!
What are your cherished memories of reading?
Who are the writers or bloggers who you connect with most? And why?
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