One of the presents Matt bought me for my 18th last year was an Amazon Kindle. At the time I wasn’t too fussed about it, but actually it was a brilliant present. When I was younger I used to read all the time, especially on holiday. We’d be away for 2 weeks and I’d go through 4 or 5 books, even as a child. As I got older, on holiday became the only time I did read, unless it was for school. But recently I’ve got back into it, and I’m glad.
There’s something about reading that I’ve always loved. I think it’s the fact that for the short time it takes to read a book, you are in someone else’s reality. Even though it’s fiction, there’s something enchanting – not in a fairy’s and princesses kind of way – but there’s something exciting and almost comforting about being someone else for those 400 odd pages.
A lot of what i read is just regular fiction. It doesn’t need to be fantastic writing or anything intellectual – just tales of the day-to-day goings on in peoples lives. Joys, trials, heartache, romance, friendships, enemies. All the usual.
I could easily be the only person who thinks this, but when I was younger I quite often felt (and still sometimes feel) pretty lonely. But there has always been something about reading a book that makes it go away. Being inside someone else’s thoughts and feelings stops you thinking about your own life, your own problems and situations, and you get to pretend to be someone else. The person who is really close to their best friend. or the one with the devoted sister. or husband. or amazing job. or even something negative, or something completely trivial. whatever it may be, you get to be someone that isn’t you..just for that short time. and there’s something about that feeling that I’ve always loved.
“In this way, I was able to place my own concerns aside and curl myself up in the cocoon of someone else’s imagination. My life was suspended – I was in neither one place nor the other.” – Kate Kerrigan : Ellis Island