A very good woman I know is doing this thing that I like a) because it’s reading b) because it justifies my obsessive reading habit and c) because it helps people. When I lived in Alice Springs and worked in the library there, we often had children whose homes were temporary ones in the nearby dry riverbed. They would come into the library and play, or just sit and look at the books, giggling together or immersed and quiet. Books and reading are such gifts, but so commonplace it’s hard to imagine not having them. So if I can put my comfy little cone of silence to good use for other people to have the same opportunities, I certainly shall!
If you’ve ever read this blog before you know how much I love reading. In fact, if you read this blog I’m guessing you love reading too.
I am incredibly lucky: I was born in a home where books where everywhere and reading was valued. My parents read to me and encouraged me to read and to write from when I was very small. They also read in front of me, all the time, as though it were a thing worth doing.
I am not especially good at the everyday business of living. I often feel uncomfortable and awkward and embarrassed, sometimes scared or angry, just dumbfounded by the ways the world can be. Reading is my comfort and my confidante and I cannot imagine what life would be like to be without it. Horrible.
But even people who find the world encouraging and sensible…
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