To Read and Read Again

Books were my first love. My grandmother (a teacher) taught me to read before I started school, so I spent most of my childhood lost in pages. I would hurry though my schoolwork so I could sit and read. I remember getting so lost in a book that I wouldn’t hear my mother calling me for dinner. I grew up in a small town, and books were a way for me to see the world. I felt I had traveled the globe by the time I got into high school and fell in love with Russian literature.

I am a re-reader. Sometimes I admit that with shame. There are so many amazing books out there that I want to read, and I know that I will never get to all of them. That thought makes me sad. When I read the Twilight series, I envied the Cullen’s insomnia. I couldn’t imagine all the books I would be able to read if I didn’t have to sleep.

I feel guilty sometimes when I’m re-reading a book. But I love that world and those characters so much that I want to get lost in it over and over again. Sometimes I re-read even if I didn’t love the book. I might have read the book before I was ready for it, and either it was too difficult for me to understand, or I hadn’t yet reached the point in my life where I could appreciate the struggles of the characters. I have both fallen in love with books that I didn’t really appreciate the first time I read them and have re-read books that, by the time I got to the re-read, had somehow lost their magic for me.

But more often than not, when I re-read I am transported to a familiar world, almost like home, and sometimes I’m even transported back to my childhood.

I’m going to do a series of reviews of childhood favorites. I have several guest bloggers lined up to write reviews of their favorite childhood stories. Maybe you’ll be inspired to read a book you’ve heard about but never had a chance to read. Maybe you’ll be reminded of one you loved. But I hope you’ll be motivated to do the same – re-read a book and maybe recapture a tiny piece of the magic of childhood.