I used to read voraciously. From the age of twelve or so there was always a book on the go. Always a slow reader but consistent. Kept going. The reward of this was a wider perspective, making the world a slightly larger place.
Then, in my thirties, I started reading less novels. Not sure why. It is time to pick it up again. Keep my world a little larger.
Early Beginnings
I am not sure where this appetite to read came from. I remember as a five year old that I would pretend to finish my work so I could go to the reading corner. The teacher would get incredibly angry and one time gave me a hard shove that nearly knocked me over. Not sure that would be allowed today but I did not care. Preferred the books.
Fast forward a few years and I started reading novels at around nine or ten years old. Intermittent. It was around twelve that it got more voracious. Initially science-fiction was what piqued my interest. Arthur C. Clarke and Frank Herbert in particular. ‘Dune’ was always a favourite. Then, at the age of fourteen or so, my literary world expanded. A love of the film of the same name led me to Graham Greene’s The Third Man and, whilst not my favourite of his books, it did act as a gateway to his other works. The Comedians and Travels With My Aunt remain favourites. Via Science Fiction came 1984 and George Orwell also became a favourite.
Expansion then Contraction
This habit continued through my thirties. The number of authors that I read grew and grew. I started to enjoy American crime thrillers, perhaps a literary offshoot from my love of Film Noir. Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett and later Jim Thompson. The Grifters is still a favourite. Then Robert Graves and the challengingly limited punctuation of Cormac McCarthy.
Then it contracted, around my late thirties. I am not sure why. It is tempting to blame MS for this but then I tend to blame MS for just about everything. Perhaps the concentration issues can play a role but I do not think it is behind abandoning reading. Time? Too much interest in bikes? Work taking more time? Too much time dawdling through cookbooks? Perhaps a combination of all of these factors? I don’t really know why. But I lost the bug.
The Return of the Slow Reader
Time to get it back. I am now a painfully slow reader. That is MS screwing with my concentration. But what a nice way to fight it! It takes a while. Indeed, I just read 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami, nicely looping back to 1984. A trilogy, it took me six months! Still, I am happy to have taken the time and enjoyed it. Better to read slowly and remember.
Practice will also make perfect and I certainly need practice. It is good, though, to engage the imagination and use the words of others to fire my imagination. There will be benefits for concentration and the fact that I am less physically active does not mean that my mind is going to be inactive. Far from it. The slow reader is coming back and hopes to be around a good while yet.
The Favourites
This is not a systematic list and it is not in order. It also covers many genres, more than I list above. There is no attempt to be some literary critic. I just love words. Think I have mentioned that.
I was going to make this ten but… couldn’t decide between a couple so left them all in! A blog is no place for discipline anyway and ask me next week and it will be completely different. As I read more I may even start commenting on books like some great critic….. or something…
- The Naked and the Dead, Norman Mailer
- Catch 22, Joseph Heller
- Count Belisaurius, Robert Graves
- Coming Up For Air, Graham Green
- The Grifters, Jim Thompson
- Doctor Zhivago, Boris Pasternak
- The Narrow Road to the Deep North, Richard Flanagan
- Cannery Row, John Steinbeck
- Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, Alan Sillitoe
- 1Q84, Haruki Murakami
- The Old Man and the Sea, Ernest Hemingway
- The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald
- The Big Sleep, Raymond Chandler
- No Country for Old Men, Cormac McCarthy