Anyone that knows me, I mean really knows me, knows that I love books. When asked about my favorite hobbies, I always say reading, which people either agree with or look at me like I’m some sort of alien from another planet. They seem to unknowingly say, “How could you possibly enjoy reading?!”
allows me to delve into a number of fictional worlds whether ones I can relate to, such as Claire Zulkey’s An Off Year, or ones that are completely unlike anything I have ever experienced, such as Scott Westerfeld’s Uglies. Sometimes characters are easily relatable and they make you want to root for them throughout the entire book. On the other hand, there are characters that you quickly begin to despise and want to shout at them, “What in the world were you thinking?!” Reading allows me to go through many emotions. I laugh, I get mad, I am shocked, and ultimately, I am glad I read the book. Reading
With that being said, reading also drives me absolutely nuts! I don’t mean the act of reading itself, but finding the “perfect” book for the “perfect” time. There are weeks that I can go through a number of “pretty good” to “great” books without even really being aware of it. But then there are times, such as the present, when I just can’t get into a book. These times seem to drag on and on, making me wonder if I’ve just burned out from reading. As of yesterday, I started the first 2-3 chapters of 5 different books and none of them sparked my interest. I tried ones that had great reviews, ones that were on award lists, and ones that just looked visually appealing. Nonetheless, they just weren’t for me.