How It All Began

J's been traveling for work and, left to my own devices, I've been on a reading bender.  A backlog of posts coming!

From the latest, Penelope Lively's How It All Began, another reflection on why I read:

"Forever, reading has been central, the necessary fix, the support system.  Her life has been informed by reading.  She has read not just for distraction, sustenance, to pass the time, but she has read in a state of primal innocence, reading for enlightenment, for instruction, even.  She has read to find out how sex works, how babies are born, she has read to discover what it is to be good, or bad; she has read to find out if things are the same for others as they are for her -- then, discovering that frequently they are not, she has read to find out what it is that other people experience that she is missing."

Overall, I thought the book was lovely: it reminded me a bit of Major Pettigrew's Last Stand with its tone, meditations on getting older, and, well, quintessential British-ness.  I would recommend it for anyone looking for a light, engrossing summer read.

To travel, to read

Rereading The Namesake for Mother's Day, and this passage struck a nerve. A discussion, on the value of travel. The author stages Ghosh and Ashoke as having competing viewpoints, whereas I think they're complementary?

Ghosh shook his head. "You are still young. Free," he said, spreading his hands apart for emphasis. "Do yourself a favor. Before it's too late, without thinking too much about it first, pack a pillow and a blanket and see as much of the world as you can. You will not regret it. One day it will be too late."

"My grandfather always says that's what books are for," Ashoke said, using the opportunity to open the volume in his hands. "To travel without moving an inch."

Why I Read

I've been reading for over twenty years now. It's an integral part of who I am: books have shaped my life, exposing me to new ideas, new places, new people. It's also one of my deepest joys. A good book can leave me buoyant -- and a depressing book can leave me in a funk for days. I often laugh as I read, and occasionally, I cry. On more than one occasion, I've been known to stay up until some unholy hour, because I'm so enthralled in a book that I simply can not put it down.

But, most importantly, I find that books make me re-evaluate my own life. When well-written, a passage can cause an "ah ha!" moment, where it resonates so deeply that I start thinking about my life, the world, human nature.

The problem, of course, is that I'll read the passages, reflect on them, and then forget where I read it! I'm hoping that this blog can be my space to journal the passages (and, on occasion, my reflections on them). I hope that you enjoy the selections!