‘I was raised among books.’ Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind
My favourite book is full of the most wonderful words that lend a hand to any occasion. In times like these, the above words echo in my thoughts, reminding me why I love living between the pages of a good book.
As a student, reading becomes a very touchy subject. Even the most literary of us experience a period of hatred- reading is meant to be a source of pleasure; the perfect accompaniment to iced coffee on a sunny day or a cup of tea on a rainy afternoon. So why in heaven’s name am I sitting here struggling to read through the million books I was assigned?
Recently, I have fallen back in love with books. My life has become so technology based- this blog included- that I’ve decided I want to take a step back from it every so often. A rule has been employed; one which banishes my phone in favour of a book every so often.
It is a very soothing process, and gives my eyes and body a chance to unwind. I think it happens to be the most productive form of procrastination too! Reading does exercise your mind, but you can eat and drink at the same time and live a life that could be entirely different from your reality. Escapism at it’s finest.
I was always encouraged to lose myself in a good book from a very young age. Library visits were made every fortnight on a Monday. I went through my phases while my Papa opted for Raymond Feist. Saturday usually resulted in a trip to Lakeside Shopping Centre, where I steadily made my way through WHSmith’s Roald Dahl collection. Harry Potter became my best friend when I turned six, and to this day I still have my annual reread.
Growing up, I was a typical teenager. The Princess Diaries had a place of pride on my shelf. Jacqueline Wilson goes without saying! I do remember an English lesson when I was thirteen though; where we had a to make a resolution of sorts. Being the self-proclaimed It Girl that I was (sporty and clever), I seriously struggled to come up with one. In the end, I wrote: ‘My resolution is to read a variety of books and not just the sort I would normally choose’. To this day, I still try and stick to that resolution.
In the spirit of that resolution, I have spent a haphazard time over the past few years picking up as many books as my (and Papa’s) credit card will allow. From the outrageously French (Balzac, Zola) that my tutors thrusted at me, to tomes I would normally vomit at (Thomas Hardy), here are some of the books that are currently piled on my bedside table. I would put them on my shelf, but well, I’ve no more space! #BookwormProblems
Dear Committee Members by Julie Schumacher
I find letters and diaries so fascinating; they’re so personal! The way a person writes a letter reveals a lot about them, so I enjoyed my purchase from Shakespeare and Co. It made me giggle, but also really got my imagination going. I’m almost a little embarrassed to admit I did judge it by it’s cover- the doodles and curly letters just really caught my eye!
Pretty Honest by Sali Hughes
I am slowly adding to my shelf of beauty and fashion books. This is a very lengthy manual, but for £22.00 I should hope so! It really is a Beauty Bible- completely honest and a bit of a wake-up call. It demystifies everything from make-up to skincare and I would urge everyone to purchase their own copy.
Submarine by Joe Dunthorne
The film Submarine was once mentioned to me, but having never watched it I didn’t know it was originally a book. Being the geek (and suck up Spoony T) that I am, I thought I would give the pages a go first. The verdict? It can only be described as the result of Wes Anderson, binge watching The Inbetweeners after a bottle of Tequila.
Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk
I did the wrong thing this time and saw the film first- trust the critics, it is a classic. Even if it is more geared towards the lads. It is very strange as his internal monologue is very disconnected, often extremist and graphic on a new level. I didn’t mind it though, I found it very clever and calculating. And yes, I absolutely did read it in Edward Norton’s voice.
My Dear I wanted to tell you by Louisa Young
After the last two books, I felt I needed to get back in touch with my emotions! I am partial to the occasional soppy story- I am unashamed to admit my copy of P.S. I Love You is falling apart, but I will of course deny that A Weekend with Mr. Darcy is actually mine. I’m only a few pages in, but I get the feeling that my heartstrings are about to get tugged on a lot more than they already have with this blossoming love story of childhood sweethearts amongst a WWI backdrop.
What are your thoughts on these books? Are you a bookworm like me, or is reading the bane of your life? Let me know below!