As this is my foray into writing, what better topic to begin
with than “Reading”. When I was in school my friends called me a book-worm. Not
anymore. I still read a lot, but sometimes I doubt whether I can be called a book-lover, in the true sense of the word. I love
reading books and the occasional blog or article online. But most of the books I
have read don’t make to “100 books u should read before u die” type lists. Who makes
these lists anyway? Who decides what’s good n what’s bad?
·
I do not own many of the books I have read(
actually, I don’t own anything worth showing off) I usually borrow from friends or issue them
from school libraries. Most of the books I have are too old, as my mum
inherited them from her aunt. Cool na??!! So, if I don’t have a cool collection
of my own to show off, am I not a book-lover?
·
I love reading fiction. That’s about it. (And
yeah…that includes the entertainment section of the newspaper as well!) I don’t
enjoy other forms of the written material- biographies, philosophy, history and
stuff like that. Actually, I’ve never really tried to come out of my comfort
zone of fiction novels- never experimented with other stuff. Is it too bad? Am
I missing a lot?
·
I hate poetry. I just don’t understand it. It was
fine till we were in school and the poems at least had a rhyming scheme. I
don’t get what’s the use of expressing yourself with poetry (which doesn’t even
rhyme!) when you got the easy and effortless prose. Anyway, to each his own.
·
I don’t re-read books. I have never gone back to
a book even if I had loved it. I just don’t feel the need, when I got so much
more ground to cover in terms of new stuff coming out each minute! Some
self-proclaimed book- lovers say that they have read certain favorite books
many times over. So does that mean I don’t value the good stuff that I have
read?
·
I don’t have one favorite book. I usually like
almost everything I read (probably because it’s in my nature not to be overtly
critical of anything). I can’t pick out my favorites, but I can name books
which I hated, for example this one called “The Idiot”, by some well known
Russian author, I don’t even bother remembering the name of. What a
disappointment it happened to be.
·
I hate Paulo Coelho. The world adores him. His
books bore me to death. Period.
·
I have read celebrated authors like Arvind Adiga,
Vikram Seth, Amitav Ghosh and the like. But I don’t stick to them religiously.
I’m not awed by their writing. I read anything I could lay my hands on, as long
as it’s interesting and enjoyable. I even read the stories in my little sister’s
course-books. I still read the Nancy-Drew’s and Hardy-Boys she gets for
herself. Even the good old Ruskin bond and R.K. Narayan! So does that push me
really down in the list of so-called “book-lovers”?
·
Oh yes, I have had my share of Sidney Sheldon and
Danielle Steel. And an occasional Mills and Boons is not a crime, right?
·
The world goes gaga over self-help books. I
don’t see any point in them. Each individual is a unique combination of
qualities, strengths, weaknesses, situations and perceptions. How can one
person write a set of rules which can guarantee success for everyone that
follows them? The concept baffles me. But then again I haven’t read much in his
segment too, so can’t take a firm stand (but am sure I would not like them)
Maybe I need a book devoted entirely to help me understand this.
·
I like my books to be in perfect shape. I cover
the delicate ones with newspaper while reading. I don’t fold them, tear pages
or write anything on my novels (or even course books for that matter). If I see
a person folding a book in half while reading, I get this urge to go up to him
and open up his book and give him a piece of my mind.
·
Please don’t throw away my books!! They’re
already so few in number. I wanna keep them with me forever, and pass them on
to my sister or my kids (only on the condition that they don’t call in the raddi-wala!).
The problem is that since I don’t live at home, my books are gathering dust and
taking up space, an eye-sore for my mum. But sometime in the future when I’ll
have a space of my own, I’ll neatly(and proudly) display them in my
living-room. Till then I have to keep checking that they’re still there every
time I visit home.
So I read what I enjoy, and don’t read what I don’t enjoy.
It’s as simple as that. I shouldn’t really care that people don’t call me a
book-worm anymore, it shouldn’t matter. All I want is a good book (preferably a
love-story), a comfy bed, a hot steaming cup of coffee and a slight drizzle
outside my window. Aaahhh…pure bliss!! :-)
