For You, The Reader
Reading is a passion of mine and I figure if someone bothered to write it, especially when someone has published it, then it is worth my taking the time to read it. This is not always the case, I do not force my way through a book if I just don’t get it, but mostly I keep reading. I read because it’s an escape, a time away from my own life as well as a time to appreciate what I have and where I am in my own life.
When friends recommend a book I read it. When family passes on a novel I give it a chance. I don’t judge a book by it’s cover, author or title but have been swayed by each. I take home a novel because the write up on the back appeals to me, because I’ve heard of the author and like him/her, because I haven’t heard of the author and want to know if I like him/her.
A story is more than someone’s window to their soul, their eyes do that; their story does more. Whether it’s fiction, non-fiction, a lesson in life, an opinion of death, a comedic relief – someone told it so at least one person should read it. Maybe I’m that one person, then again maybe I’m that one in 3 million and maybe I’m that one in 42 million who won’t read it.
It doesn’t have to be a masterpiece or written in perfect English (what is perfect English anyway?) but it needs to bare the soul, teach me something and make me think. It needs to make sense even if not to the author than to the reader. A good novel for me is one that I always think about even between moments of reading. A brilliant novel is one that keeps me reading even when I shouldn’t be. A bad novel is one that I don’t care if I have a chance to read it again.
Do you agree with me?
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