From there, I hungered for more, so started reading books lying around -- which meant my mother's Mills and Boons romance novels, the Barbara Cartland romance series, as well as the Lucy Walker romance novelettes. The Mills and Boons series were mostly set in the US, the Barbara Cartland ones were historical romances set in British court in the early 1900s while the Lucy Walker novels were set in the Australian outback. These were also pretty interesting, giving me a glimpse of how people from other countries and other eras lived, and loved too.
When I was done with those and tired of all the sappy romance scenes traditionally ending in passionate embraces with the woman helpless in the crook of the man's strong muscled arms as their lips move toward each other -- I moved on to the thickest books I could find, meaning my older sisters' (or maybe their boyfriends' books) grand historical novels -- James Michener's Chesapeake as well as James Clavell's Shogun, Taipan, and Noble House. I was in the seventh grade or about 12 years old when I went through just about all of Ayn Rand's books -- starting with The Fountainhead where I was totally hooked, then Atlas Shrugged and the others. I think these books of Ayn Rand impressed on me practically the opposite of the romance novels -- with its strong heroines and women with their own original minds and ideas, uncaring of societal stereotypes and limitations, it presented a more realistic view of a woman's role, i.e. certainly not a passive player. I even went through a lot of Edgar Cayce books delving on reincarnation and how past lives could possibly have had a role in your present one. I then went on to all the mythology books I could find on Greek and Roman gods starting with Edith Hamilton's Mythology, this time reading about the triumphs and foibles of gods and humans. Quite a mixed bag when I think about it now, but what I distinctly remember is how much I adored the written word that I spent time savoring each word, listening to it in my mind, hoping the book would never end. This of course meant that I was reading most of the time. I even remember sitting by the bathroom floor at night reading by its light -- I could not leave our bedroom light on as my sister/roommate would get mad at me. This also meant that my favorite subject was Reading (yes, it was a subject), and we had these reading sets with comprehension questions after, that I so looked forward to.
Later, I discovered and was blown away by the imagery of the magical realism novels of Latin American writers -- from Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude, The Autumn of the Patriarch and everything in between, to Isabel Allende's House of the Spirits. I continued on to African writers Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart and Amos Tuotola's Palm Wine Drinkard. V.S. Naipul's House of Mr Biswas was another interesting read. Then on to the achingly haunting Yukio Mishima's Sea of Fertility tetralogy, beginning with Spring Snow. I remember how sad these made me feel, the power of these books, you want to curl up and rant at the hopelessness of life.
When I was done with those and tired of all the sappy romance scenes traditionally ending in passionate embraces with the woman helpless in the crook of the man's strong muscled arms as their lips move toward each other -- I moved on to the thickest books I could find, meaning my older sisters' (or maybe their boyfriends' books) grand historical novels -- James Michener's Chesapeake as well as James Clavell's Shogun, Taipan, and Noble House. I was in the seventh grade or about 12 years old when I went through just about all of Ayn Rand's books -- starting with The Fountainhead where I was totally hooked, then Atlas Shrugged and the others. I think these books of Ayn Rand impressed on me practically the opposite of the romance novels -- with its strong heroines and women with their own original minds and ideas, uncaring of societal stereotypes and limitations, it presented a more realistic view of a woman's role, i.e. certainly not a passive player. I even went through a lot of Edgar Cayce books delving on reincarnation and how past lives could possibly have had a role in your present one. I then went on to all the mythology books I could find on Greek and Roman gods starting with Edith Hamilton's Mythology, this time reading about the triumphs and foibles of gods and humans. Quite a mixed bag when I think about it now, but what I distinctly remember is how much I adored the written word that I spent time savoring each word, listening to it in my mind, hoping the book would never end. This of course meant that I was reading most of the time. I even remember sitting by the bathroom floor at night reading by its light -- I could not leave our bedroom light on as my sister/roommate would get mad at me. This also meant that my favorite subject was Reading (yes, it was a subject), and we had these reading sets with comprehension questions after, that I so looked forward to.
Later, I discovered and was blown away by the imagery of the magical realism novels of Latin American writers -- from Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude, The Autumn of the Patriarch and everything in between, to Isabel Allende's House of the Spirits. I continued on to African writers Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart and Amos Tuotola's Palm Wine Drinkard. V.S. Naipul's House of Mr Biswas was another interesting read. Then on to the achingly haunting Yukio Mishima's Sea of Fertility tetralogy, beginning with Spring Snow. I remember how sad these made me feel, the power of these books, you want to curl up and rant at the hopelessness of life.
Beat novellist Jack Kerouac's On The Road ushered in my next set of readings. With my new sport of mountaineering, I went on to American outdoor/environmental writing -- Edward Abbey's The Monkey Wrench Gang and Desert Solitaire, books by Barbara Kingsolver such as High Tide in Tucson (still a favorite), Gary Snyder poems, Barry Lopez' Arctic Dreams, Bruce Chatwin's Songlines, John Krakauer's Into Thin Air and Into the Wild.
From my Golden Age of reading, I grew up and went on to the real world and actually did things instead of reading about them, and traveled those places I had only read about.
Lately, I have been rediscovering reading. Some of the reading I did was sparked by a television or movie series, such as the Stieg Larsson Millenium Series Trilogy which started with Girl with a Dragon Tattoo. Funny thing was that after I read it, I ended up in Sweden, and even walked Lisbeth Salander's steps (Stockholm's Millenium walking tour). After watching the first movie, I continued reading the Harry Potter series as they came out. After the first Hunger Games movie, I continued reading the next two books of the series. The first season of Games of Thrones prompted me on to reading the rest of the Songs of Ice and Fire series of books. I also quite enjoyed Eat, Pray, Love. I try not to be snobbish about what I read, and read what I think I will enjoy. Other readings are due to just what is in the library. One of the things I do when I move to a new place is check out their public library, a wonderful system in Europe. When I was learning Swedish, I even read the abridged version (in Swedish) of a funny crazy novel called The Hundred Year Old Man Who Climbed Out of his Window and Disappeared by Jonas Jonasson, as well as some novels of Hakan Nesser and Jan Gilliou. Sweden has really some terrific novellists of the crime/detective genre.
From my Golden Age of reading, I grew up and went on to the real world and actually did things instead of reading about them, and traveled those places I had only read about.
Lately, I have been rediscovering reading. Some of the reading I did was sparked by a television or movie series, such as the Stieg Larsson Millenium Series Trilogy which started with Girl with a Dragon Tattoo. Funny thing was that after I read it, I ended up in Sweden, and even walked Lisbeth Salander's steps (Stockholm's Millenium walking tour). After watching the first movie, I continued reading the Harry Potter series as they came out. After the first Hunger Games movie, I continued reading the next two books of the series. The first season of Games of Thrones prompted me on to reading the rest of the Songs of Ice and Fire series of books. I also quite enjoyed Eat, Pray, Love. I try not to be snobbish about what I read, and read what I think I will enjoy. Other readings are due to just what is in the library. One of the things I do when I move to a new place is check out their public library, a wonderful system in Europe. When I was learning Swedish, I even read the abridged version (in Swedish) of a funny crazy novel called The Hundred Year Old Man Who Climbed Out of his Window and Disappeared by Jonas Jonasson, as well as some novels of Hakan Nesser and Jan Gilliou. Sweden has really some terrific novellists of the crime/detective genre.
O gmther books I have recently read that I completely enjoyed are Half of the Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, set in a Nigeria in turmoil, Zadie Smith's On Beauty and Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections. Wow, these are beautiful books and must-reads. I am starting now on Zadie Smith's NW which I am sure will be great.
Here's to more reading! I do have a Nook ebook reader, but prefer to hold on to the real deal. I still savor each word and each page -- that will never change.
