Books have a happy existence at our house. They are never lonely–they are frequently discussed and admired. Our bookshelves often have books untidily piled on top of the rows with covers and pages spilling out, until someone (I won’t say who) comes along and says, “This is a mess! We have too many books!”
Out go the books that are falling-apart or not-interesting-enough. But invariably, as the books slink out with their heads hanging low, other books hop onto the shelves!
I partially blame my love of books on my mother. When I was four years old, my annual vocabulary testing showed that I was lagging behind other four-year-olds. Since I was hearing impaired, I just wasn’t picking up enough language from hearing it. So my mother sat me down and taught me to read! My world exploded, the vocabulary deficits vanished, and I was stamped a reader for life.
Now, at 33 years old, I have just embarked on a new adventure with books! Here in Medicine Lodge, I’m blessed with a library a couple blocks away. This library hosts a community book club every month, and at a friend’s urging, I decided to join. (After my last post, you might be wondering how well I can function in a group like this. Actually, this is an ideal setup. A small group in a controlled environment means I don’t miss much.)
The people in the group are as varied as books. Even though we are strictly supposed to stick to discussing the book, life outside sneaks in. I learn delightful tidbits about the town and the people. And really, how can anyone read a book without thinking about it in the context of their daily lives?
Reading books with a group of people is stimulating. Instead of my single pebble of thought, a clutch of ideas are tossed out on the table to peruse.
Emily Dickinson wrote, “There is no frigate like a book, to take us lands away.” I enjoy having fellow sailors with me on my voyage.
Have you shared a book with anyone lately?