Stuff I've read

I grew up reading. From summer reading lists to required school texts to the latest whatever that sparked my interest, I devoured them as if they were my daily bread. Like most people, though, somewhere between college essays and scholarly journals, I lost my taste for words.

I missed it. In a deep, strange way, I missed the sense of home I'd always found in books. And so I vowed to read more and to write more and to enjoy it more. It was difficult, though. I found myself daunted by the responsibility of reading and consequently guilt-ridden when I failed. I needed a new approach.

Somewhere between moving to Australia and the beginning of 2014, my perspective changed. I discovered I genuinely missed setting aside time during the day to sit quietly and take in the voice of someone else. I started reading again, little by little, and as the new year approached, I decided that I would try my hardest not to start new books until I was finished with current ones.

So far, so good. So far this year, I've read three books. The first, an enormously marvelous novel that left me nearly in tears and reeling with appreciation. I'm still thinking about it, three weeks later. The latter two were simpler books, easy to take in in bits and pieces during swim lessons or on the beach with my friends. Now I've moved on to a history of the Tour de France, and I'm hoping to finish by the end of the month. My list of books to read is growing at a ridiculous pace, documented by pictures and journal entries, and the thought of walking into a store and buying a book rather than adding it to a list is almost too exciting to bear.

Here's the thing about reading: It's not so much about what you read as the mere fact that you're doing it. Yes, I prefer classics to young adult books, but I shamelessly read all of the Twilight books during high school, between things like Let the Great World Spin and The Patron Saint of Liars. My taste has evolved over the last several years, but I find myself returning to my old favorites time and again, soaking them in delicately and desperately. New books smell divine, but old ones smell like home.

What I've Read This Year:
Tinkers by Paul Harding
Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan
Dear Girls Above Me  by Charlie McDowell