I am a voracious reader. It borderlines on obsessive and at times can be downright inconvenient. I'm the type of person who will put off practically anything to read a good book.
I grew up surrounded by books and people reading books - old, new, used, borrowed, from the library, school, Oprah's Book Club, it doesn't matter the source. My entire family reads and shares. My closest friends read and share.
I'm a very fast reader. I need at least 300-400 pages or I get frustrated because the story doesn't last long enough. I'm a very good reader, from a very early age. But I love books. I love paper. The feel of the pages, soft and cool, words ready to engage you and make you forget about everything else.
I'm pretty flexible about the topic. I just like a good read. I'm not that good with non-fiction. I lose patience and tend to skim or flip or use as a resource. I did read every word of Love and Respect and I'm proud of myself for that. I do like those detective-type stories and generational stories about families. I think Harry Potter is amazing. The mind of that woman, the imagination, the attention to detail, to carry us through and hold our attention, craving more for seven books...I was crushed for days when James Frey admitted to "not telling the truth" in A Million Little Pieces - I felt personally offended. I laughed my head off reading The Devil Wears Prada and wanted to move to Mitford when I read that series. I seem to get attached to the people in the books, they seem so real to me.
I'm not good at author's names which is a shame. I have loved so many of them but can't remember them to give them credit. I have loved Maeve Binchy and ALL of her books (I can't ready her short ones, they end too soon and that makes me sad). She leaves me wanting more of her characters. I am loving Jodi Picoult and her books. Such good stories. The Shell Seekers, whoever wrote that. The Glass Castle - true memoirs and an unbelieveable tale of growing up. I could go on forever.
Yesterday I finished Before I Wake by Robert J. Wiersema. What a book. You know when you cry at the end it is GOOD. The story about a toddler who is the victim of a hit and run, survives but is comatose. She seems to have healing powers for those around her. It is the story of her and her parents, those around her and the investigation into her gifts. I am so surprised it is written by a man. It just felt like the author was a woman. A Canadian author (yah), written up in the Globe and Mail on their Best Book List.
If you are ready to start a new book or are compiling a list of books to read, give this a try. Reading is so personal, but I liked this one enough to dare to recommend :)