I can wax lyrical about a chapter, a sentence used to describe something that really resonates but I have found that sometimes, when I do, and I try and explain it, I get these "dead fish" eyes looking at back at me from the people I am talking to. And I realise that not everyone can get carried away by a book, be it a romance, a chick-lit book, a sweeping historical novel spanning generations, a science fiction book of the improbable future or a fantasy book with swords, sandals and beautiful damsels and handsome heroes.
I remember the easiest way to get my mom to sleep on a Sunday afternoon was to hand her a newspaper whilst sitting on the couch. She would be - guaranteed - gone in a matter of five minutes or less. She hated me reading. Always thought it was a waste of precious time. I could be out there, doing other things. Like cooking and cleaning and helping her with her many crafts. I suppose, I might have been better off learning these things as I am not a good house keeper at all; I am a very good cook, but that might be genes and the necessity to eat playing a big role there...and I have brilliant ideas for making things...just not the ability to.
But what I do have is an enduring passion for the written word. My prized possession at the age of fifteen was a leather bound copy of Shakespeare's works. I remember sitting in the back of our Toyota Cressida driving down to the coast for our annual holiday, hugging the book to me, touching it and opening it at random and reading the Bard's words to myself and thinking that no one could write better than that. Where other kids that age would run a mile reading his plays, I lapped it up. I was a geek, I admit it, but I was a geek with an imagination and a fantastic vocabulary.
I forget the real point behind this blog...but the pic and the title says it all: So many books, so little time! Or, as a friend who recently got Sky said: so many channels to watch, not enough eyes. I rest my case.
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