Books or Bread

Reading is second only to oxygen to me. Seriously. If I am really absorbed by what I'm reading, I'll forget my basic needs: Am I thirsty? Hungry? Hot? Cold? Do I need to duck and cover due to weather? Etc. Unfortunately, because of my insane schedule at school (3 very involved preps), I am usually reading for class or looking to enhance my lesson with another piece of literature. As a result, I rarely get to read for pure pleasure, though when I do I'm lovin' life! The confusing part is I am usually reading 4-10 books at a time... on purpose.

I tend to round robin the "for fun," "just because," and "my soul could really use this" books which means it takes me sometimes months to finish one (especially since when I'm tired I have the attention span of a gnat). Here's how the system works: I am given/find/purchase/borrow a book that really interests me. I start reading it. If it is exceptionally interesting, I continue reading until the end. Very few authors merit this kind of attention from me (Jeffrey Eugenides is one who is worthy). If I get bored/ scared/bogged down in rhetoric the book is placed under the bed (face down if the book is scary... I have a friend who puts scary books in the freezer, so I'm not THAT weird). The same procedure happens for the next book. Again, if uninteresting or if my imagination overtakes me, the book is placed under the bed. This means that the initial book is scooted further under the bed. The process continues until the first book pops out on the other side of the bed. At that point, the rotation officially begins. Rich generally hands me the book that has "mysteriously ended up on his side" (we're very territorial) and I say to myself something like, "Oh yeah! I remember what was happening in this book. That was interesting," and I read; or I might say, "Oh yeah. THAT book. Maybe I should give it another go." That book usually gets put under the bed again after 2 seconds of consideration and is rotated back into the system. (There may be close to 20 books under my bed right now...)

I am not a book snob. I think books are meant to be loved on. I think they should be written in, chewed on, personalized, beat-up, and hugged. I think people should write in books; they should share their wisdom, underline important passages, and write personal, secret (sometimes) comments. Books should definitely be dog-eared and like dogs, they should be taken wherever their masters go. I've even taken particular books to places where I knew I would need encouragement just so the words would be there for me if I needed them. I'm sounding ultra nerdy and a bit pathetic, but books are that vital to me.

I think one of the most personal things someone can do for another is share a book. Sharing a book is like sharing your soul. It's saying, "This is important to me and I hope it's important to you, too." No one should own books. They should only be shared, in my opinion. That being said, one of my students, Brittany, gave me a book to read last week (she has been forewarned about the rotating system). I've only opened the cover, but already I've found significance. I'll leave you with one of the opening poems in the Time Traveler's Wife:

Love After Love
by Derek Walcott

The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other's welcome.

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.