Sharing the Joys of Reading

I think I was born an avid reader. I will read anything and everything: books, magazines, comic books, cookbooks, poetry, fiction, mysteries, nonfiction, cereal boxes… Whatever has words on it is fair game.

I love being able to lose myself in a book and enter a different world, or to read a poem that paints a vivid image or provokes a feeling, or to discover something about an intriguing person in their biography.

But for some (like me), sharing a love of reading with someone else makes it even more enjoyable. What fun to talk about a book you love with a friend, comparing your likes and dislikes, or to write a few words in a book blog and have a discussion there with people you don’t even know! And of course, nothing compares with listening to a favourite story read aloud.

My first memory of being read to was from our battered set of Encyclopedia Brittanica. It had a whole section on fairy tales and I particularly remember Rumpelstiltskin. I can still see the wonderful line drawings that accompanied that fantastic story, showing him stomping off into the forest, never to be heard from again! My husband and I used to read to each other sometimes, and later as a new mother, one of my greatest joys was reading to my young son. We read to him every day, any time of the day or evening, and of course at bedtime without fail. That time for the three of us was very precious. Nobody wanted the story to end!

More recently, we read aloud to my mother-in-law as she got to the point of not being able to read or do much for herself. Although she virtually stopped speaking, she enjoyed it when we read to her and would nod or smile to tell us to keep going. Sometimes I would knit and she would watch me as we listened together to a familiar tale. We couldn’t always tell whether she understood the story or simply liked listening to our voices, but that didn’t really matter. It was a cozy way of spending time with each other, connected somehow through the book we shared.

A more active reading experienced is achieved by participating in a book club. I joined the one at the local public library and it is phenomenal. Reading a book for a book club is a different experience from simply reading for your own pleasure. After the quiet, introspective endeavour of reading the book on your own, you now enter a more dynamic phase. At my book club, there is heated debate and argument, questioning of viewpoints, agreement about some things, and strong disagreement about others. It is a lively two hours of discussion, discovery, laughter, and robust opinions. Our bond is the love of reading, but we represent different ages and stages in life, various types of careers, and several cultures and countries. Each of us brings a unique perspective to the table and adds to the richness to be found in the book. At the end of the session, we sometimes realize that our viewpoint has altered somewhat. How gratifying to know that we are gaining something from these meetings, however intangible that may be.
There are so many casual, day-to-day ways of sharing a good read. My son and I like some of the same authors, and are hooked on a couple of mystery writers. It’s hard to wait till the other one is finished the book before making comments. We are dying to find out what the other thought about the implausible plot, or the interesting new character that was introduced. My sister and I talk about books often through email, and I sent her a special book for Christmas. We are going to read it at the same time so we can discuss it as we go along. And of course I chat about books with my friends all the time and we often exchange books. So many ways to enjoy reading and many memories associated with it.

One especially fond memory is of visiting my in-laws when our son was small. We would sit in the family room after supper, all reading, or doing crossword puzzles. It was very quiet, except for my mother-in-law’s desultory comments about newspaper articles, or our occasional (unnecessary) contribution to my father-in-law’s cryptic crossword. But often we would simply sit together, reading in companionable silence.

A bond is formed through reading, a relationship with the author, or a fellow reader, that is unique. The exchanging of ideas, in whatever format, creates connections. What greater benefit could there be than to connect with another person, in whatever way that takes place?

Thanks to S.T.E.L.L.A. for the opportunity to share my love of reading with others. I am on twitter @jaduperreault and write a book blog where I review fiction, a bit of nonfiction, and the occasional poetry collection: Bookdiscovery-jeanne.blogspot.com

5 reasons to give books as gifts

We happen to think that books make great gifts all year round, but seeing as we are right in the middle of the holiday season, we thought we'd give you some great reasons to give books as gifts to everyone on your list this year:

1.  Compared to many of the other gift options out there, books are pretty inexpensive. Especially when you consider that books not only give you happiness while you're reading them but also long after you've turned that last page.

2. Choosing the right book to give as a gift takes real thought and attention. Who wouldn't want that over a gift card or something equally impersonal?

3. Books are really easy to wrap! It's a small thing, but it counts.

4. Giving a book that you've read to a friend or family member means you have the perfect excuse to get together again and discuss it.

5. You can buy books online, at independent bookstores, and at larger bookstore chains. You can even gift an eBook by simply purchasing the book and sending it in an email. Buying books has never been easier!


Will you be giving any books as gifts over the holidays?

Book Sharing

My house is covered from end-to-end in books. As I’ve said in previous posts, to me, the best way to get kids reading is to make the books readily available to them. If something is all around, you’re just bound to love it, right? It’s true. Sort of. My kids do like to read, although they go through phases with their attraction to reading, which is partially caused by distractions such as Facebook, hacking each others computers, or just being a teenager. What I do notice, though is that they don’t treasure or revere the actual physical objects called books like I did as a child. I still have some of the books that I loved, even now, 30 years later. When I see them, I smile. There are memories associated with them. Now, maybe it’s just me, and my attachment to things that are meaningful, but I like to keep my books forever. I was devastated when my parents accidentally sold a box of my childhood picture books at a garage sale. And I still think about my ‘babies’ that were donated by my husband after we moved into our current home. Maybe I’m selfish, or even a hoarder, but I like to keep my books all to myself, even those I have no intention of re-reading. (I do share if the borrower promises to bring the book back forthwith.) After all, the stories are mine, right? Associated with those pages are my memories and the vivid imaginary experiences that I’ve had with the characters. My kids, however, are very happy to clear their bookshelves, either sharing the books around the house with a sibling, giving them to friends or their cousins, or in the case of my youngest, donate them to his school library. As he said, ‘These are books I don’t want anymore. But, they are titles (I swear he used the word title-he’s gifted) that other kids like and are in demand with the school library. I already spoke to the librarian.’ I sift through their picture books alternately smiling and sobbing as I reflect on the memories contained therein. I think about warm, cozy story time and soft, downy, post-bath time heads snuggled against my chest as I read them about the latest adventures. But, they are just ready to move on. They seem to be able to separate the object (book) from love of the story. I can’t decide if it saddens me or baffles me. Maybe I’m selfish or just sentimental. Books are for everyone. They bring people together. My kids understand that these stories are meant for sharing. Instead of squeezing their bookshelves ever tighter, double stacking and haphazardly piling, my children want to pass on their favorites to others who might enjoy them. I’m starting to think that those kids have got it right and its time to overcome my possessiveness over my paperbound bits of happiness. I think I should begin to follow their lead starting with this holiday season. I encourage you all to share the gift of reading by dropping off a box of books to STELLAA, to make a donation, or follow my son’s lead, and give the books to your local school library, shelter, or even hospital. I hope that this New Year brings you health, happiness, and the prosperity that comes from within.