Michelle's Madness

I miss reading. I have always loved to read, but now I either lack the time or the attention span. When I do have the time, I never know what to read because I never have time to search for books, either to buy or to get from the library.

How could I lose touch with this simple pleasure? I learned to read super early, like when I was 2. I don’t remember a time in my life when I could not read. In fact, I can’t remember an adult reading to me at all because once I learned to read it was basically just left to me to entertain myself with books. No stories read to me before bed, at least not that I can remember. I also skipped part of kindergarten because of my literacy. Apparently I was running around and doing somersaults during class and I was labeled as a discipline problem (nowadays, I’d be labeled ADHD and force-fed drugs). Finally my parents asked what we were learning and the teacher informed them, “We are learning the alphabet, one letter per week. We are up to R”, or some such nonsense. They told the teacher to give me a book. It turns out I was bored and already reading at a fourth grade level. In junior high, I would constantly get in trouble (in Language Arts class, no less) for reading my own books and not paying attention to the lessons. The difference between there, their and they’re… okay, check, got it, now leave me alone. In high school, when the class was taking turns reading a book aloud, I would get bored while some people struggled and I would read ahead. Then when it was my turn, I would be so far ahead that I had no clue where the rest of the class left off and I would get in trouble for not paying attention. I always hated when they would have us take turns reading aloud; I would get bored, and I prefer to read at my own pace. That’s not to say that I’m any better than the people who struggled; it’s just something I excelled at and didn’t need the extra assistance that some students required. Some people in my classes would talk about how uncool reading was; I’d just ignore them, book in hand. Reading was an escape. It was an adventure and way to stimulate my brain.

Even when I was out of school, I was always reading. I’ve always liked suspenseful books, but I’m not married to one particular genre. In fact, when asked what kind of books I prefer, I really can’t answer that question. One of my favorite books is “Icebound” by Dr. Jerri Nielsen, which is her account of the year she spent “wintering over” in the South Pole, where she discovered she had breast cancer. I also loved “I’m Eve”, about one woman’s multiple personality disorder, which is the basis for the movie “The Three Faces of Eve”. Another good one is “The Nanny Diaries”, which isn’t actually a true story, but is fiction based on the real-life experiences of two former New York nannies. But I wouldn’t say that I love the entire genre of memoirs, because there are some that are booooooring. “An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness” for instance, was pretty lame and repetitive. Since it’s a memoir of a bipolar woman (who also happens to be a psychiatrist) I thought I would be able to relate to it better, but it was a letdown in the same sense as “The Blair Witch Project”; it would build and build and there would be suspense and then… nothing. Totally anticlimactic.

Besides some memoirs and some suspense books, I also like the “chick lit” genre: some drama, humor and romance, but not over the top like a Harlequin Romance novel. These are fun “no-brainer” reads that are great for reading on vacation or a sick day. But I certainly don’t want to make that the staple of my reading material. I just don’t always have the attention span or brain power to process a heavy book like I used to, mostly from just having way too much on my plate on a daily basis, which is compounded by my unholy weekday waking hour. So when I go to the bookstore or the library, I generally have no clue where to even begin looking. Some books sound decent, but I always want to be really sure so I don’t waste my time on something that turns out to be lame. Of course, how will I know unless I try? I think the wanting to be absolutely sure about a book before committing is a throwback from hours spent standing in Barnes & Noble, trying to narrow down my choices and get the best options for my money; otherwise I would have always ended up spending a small fortune on books because there are so many that are interesting.

So, I need to get reading on a regular basis back into my life. Seriously. I need to make use of websites such as What Should I Read Next and reacquaint myself with the library. Intellectually I know that just because someone doesn’t read much it doesn’t mean they are dumb. But because reading was always such a big part of my life, I personally feel somewhat dumber for not reading books more often like I used to. Most days all my poor brain can handle is an article from Glamour or Reader’s Digest. Sometimes I can barely read that because of all the interruptions (my boys talk constantly during movies so about every other sentence I read is interrupted with chatter by a little person who expects some sort of response to a rhetorical statement). And I go to bed early (due to the aforementioned unholy waking hour) so I can’t spend a lot of time with a book in the evenings before bed, though I really ought to try.

Today I have started a new book called “Holy Cow: An Indian Adventure”, given to me by a friend at work (thanks Brook!). It is also a memoir, and though I’m only a couple of chapters in, I really like it so far. And I’m feeling inspired to find a book to read next. So, what should I read next?