I read a book yesterday; devoured all 212 pages of it. It wasn’t a difficult read but was well-written and the style was one that prompted me to turn page after page as I watched the clock to ensure I wouldn’t be late for my dinner plans.
Those who know me well are probably thinking oh, Nicole read ANOTHER book, big deal. Except, it is kind of a big deal because for the last maybe year or so I haven’t been reading as much. There have been many a book club meeting where I am shamefully withdrawn as the other group members discuss our latest read, of which I only managed to read _____ chapters — never quite making it through, and sometimes not even making it close.
Granted, some of the book club choices have been difficult to read or uninteresting topics for me. But, that didn’t used to matter. I had attended every get together with all sorts of opinions and critiques and was able to laugh along or criticize a certain aspect or fall in love with a character or loathe another.
And, don’t even get me started on my currently-reading list on Goodreads or the constantly growing collection of books I have purchase and just haven’t gotten around to reading. I realize a lot of people have similar stacks of unread books but since the recent lag in my reading, I had continued purchasing books at the same pace but just not reading any of them. Or, starting but never finishing. Trust me, it’s a lot of books. Thankfully I many bookmarks, which are sadly poking out between pages, shaming me to move them forward or, for god’s sake, just removing them all together because we both know I’m never going to pick up the book again.
So, the mere fact that I read an entire book in one afternoon isn’t such a big deal. But, that I read a book — lost myself in it and met new characters and teared up a little and got angry a little and was reminded of how it felt to turn the last page, that dichotomy between pride of finishing and having to say goodbye to a good story.
I read a book yesterday. And today I started another. It’s our next book club choice and, while it might not be one I would have chosen, I will finish it and arrive at our next get together prepared and excited and able to participate in the discussion.
And, once I finish that book, I’ll start and finish another and this will continue because I’ve missed it and I’ve missed the girl who used to peddle furiously to the library each day in the South Dakota heat to turn in her updated reading list for the annual summer reading game. And that stack of unread books will dwindle and their accompanying bookmarks will finally be freed — and proven wrong.