I have to have a book on me.
There’s one in my purse, one in my tote bag and another in the backpack I carry my laptop in.
I change them out, but for the most part I travel with Dickens, King and M.R James.
I won’t say I prefer books to conversations, because I really do like to talk to people. But books, I love to read them. Every chance I get.
When I get my hands on a new book I’ll read it staright through. And whoa be to the rotten books because I won’t stop reading until I’m done.
If I invest that much time in a book, I feel like I have every right to tell anyone who will listen exactly how I wasted “X” amount of time on a piece of junk and how I will go to my grave and through all of eternity regretting the decision to pick up that book ever.
Or I will say, ” I can’t believe an innocent tree died for this piece of junk”.
There are times though when I will read one book for the pleasure of it, because the words are music to my eyes and I will read it slow. One chapter a night ONLY.
That book is Great Expectations by Dickens.
I love the way he uses the language, I love every single character, I love the darkness- both in the characters and the scenes- every turning point takes place in the shadows even when the characters are in full sunlight.
Lucky for me, I’ve never suffered from Reader’s Block…but then again I have had Charles Dickens in my life for a very long time.
That’s probably why.