Reading for Pleasure

I read a lot these days. And I cannot help but reflect on my life as a reader. You see, I was never an avid reader or a reader at all. I hardly read books in school, and even when we had assigned reading I rarely did it. I've thought about this a lot during the past year, especially because there is so much about how reading "makes you a better person" or reading "makes you a good partner." What this actually means is that it is good to read, and in particular, to read fiction. And while I consider these claims in context, it prompts me to question why I never enjoyed reading until I was late in my teens. Why? Why didn't I read? Both of my parents were avid readers, and they read stories to me when I was a kid. But I never read for myself. I confess I "fake read" back then because I believed that reading was good, but I wasn't good at it, nor did I enjoy it. I remember in the 2nd grade being put in the low reading group. This was a complete blow to my seven-year old ego because until that point I thought maybe I was pretty smart. Alas, this happened a few times. And so I often skated through reading and used my artistic skills to make posters about books instead of writing an actual book report. I once made a beautiful poster for Julie of the Wolves. But I never read it. So again, why?

I think this is in part due to the fact that I was constantly being asked to read books that I could never relate to. They were, for lack of a better description, "boy books." And although Julie of the Wolves isn't necessarily a boy book, it came at a time when I was being bombarded by them. Here is a quick laundry list: Lord of the Flies, Johnny Tremain, Where the Red Fern Grows, Old Yeller, Gentle Ben, The Indian in the Cupboard. These were assigned reading, and I admit the only boy book I did read was Gentle Ben because I had to carry the weight of a dead-beat reading group in the 5th grade. I did not enjoy it.

Three reading moments happened during my youth that did give me some hope about reading. The first was a book that my third grade teacher, Mrs. Walp, gave me. I don't even know why she gave it to me, and I remember thinking "wow, she picked out a book just for me." It was brand new, and it was titled Poppy and the Outdoors Cat. Why she chose this book I'll never know, but I remember that the cover had a girl holding a cat, and I thought, "I'm a girl and I have an outdoor cat too!" A relationship was formed between me and Poppy. The second reading moment was a series of books my mom encouraged me to read when I was about 11. One was called Journey to Topaz, the other was Journey Home. It is obvious why my mom gave me these books (they are about a young Japanese American girl who, with her family, is relocated to a camp during WWII). Here again, I recognized the character, and it was deeply profound. An entire book about someone who looked a little like me, and thought some of the same things I did. I believed that if I met Yuki, the main character, she and I would be fast friends. Finally, the third moment happened when I was 16 and I read the book Animal Farm. Yes, this might be a "boy book" but this book changed how I came to read. It opened up the possibility of good utopian stories and it activated my imagination. There was nothing recognizable about this book, and thus, it confused me and angered me, and left me begging for more.

After that point, I realized that I could find my own books to read, and also read books I couldn't relate to, but still find something there. (For example, I hate A Separate Peace but there are moments of beauty in it. I say the same about Ethan Frome) I am still not incredibly well-read, but I do finally find pleasure out of reading. Even if these days I only read textbooks, I do sneak a few pages in of a novel or short story every once in a while. And I may eventually, finally read Lord of the Flies.