My Reading Life

My Reading Life (Carolyn Acker)

    I have been a reader from the time I acquired the ability and books continue to be an integral part of my life.  I read daily and if I have a day or two where I cannot find at least a few minutes to read, I begin to long for a way to escape my responsibilities.  It sounds a bit like an addiction, I admit, but I really do need to read!  Any symptoms of withdrawal, thankfully, are quickly alleviated by some time with a good book.  My home is filled with books due to my reading habit, and my three children have inherited my habit, much like my mother passed her reading habit on to me.

    My mother read voraciously throughout the rearing of her nine children and continues to read at the age of 80, albeit at a slower pace.  While I don’t remember her reading to me as a small child, I have a clear picture of my mother reading a book on the beach in the summer while we swam, on the stoop of our home in Brooklyn while we played, and at the table in the kitchen while we raised a ruckus elsewhere in our small, first floor apartment.  My mother had an uncanny ability to tune us out while reading.  As I became older, I remember coming in at night and finding my mother asleep in her chair in the den with a book upon her lap.  Funny, my husband has commented many times on my ability to become so absorbed in what I am reading that I do not hear him,  and there have been many nights that I also fall asleep with an open book on my lap in my favorite recliner.

   When I was a child my parents didn’t buy me books,  we did not have the money for such a luxury, but I know I had books to read.  My library card was my unlimited Amazon gift card, enabling me to take out 5 books at a time and providing me with an infinite source of reading material. I read everything I could, and yet, a few titles stand out in my memory. My favorite book as a young girl was Charlotte’s Web.  I loved that spider as much as Wilber did and cried along with him when he had to say goodbye to her.  As I reached adolescence, I remember gobbling up Agatha Christie mysteries and Judy Blume stories, especially Are You There, God?, It’s Me Margaret.  When I was in between library books I read every story in the Reader’s Digest Condensed Novels collection that my parents subscribed to and somehow in my 14th year, came upon on J.R.R. Tolkein’s, The Hobbit.    

   The Hobbit stands out as the most memorable book of my youth. In the eighth grade when I read it, I remember being entranced by Tolkein’s creation of a fantastical world inhabited by hobbits who were little people that loved to eat, had hairy feet and would not dare to go on an adventure, except for Bilbo, of course.  Because of Tolkein’s descriptive talent, I was able to draw a vivid picture of Bilbo Baggins and his home in my mind and quickly became compelled to accompany Bilbo and the dwarves on their adventures.  I read the book again, years later, with my ten-year old son, and enjoyed the adventures of Bilbo and friends as much, if not more, than when I read it the first time.  He loved The Hobbit  went on to read the Fellowship of the Ring series on his own.

        As a mother, I read countless books to my three children while they were growing up.  In the early years we enjoyed The Tales of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter, The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams, Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak, The Little Engine That Could by Watty Piper and many more. We graduated to series like the Berenstain Bears, Franklin the Turtle and Curious George, as they grew.  I read to my children until they no longer wanted me to, but even after they became independent readers we talked about the books we were reading, sharing the titles we enjoyed.  The Harry Potter series was one that we all read, and excitement would build in our house as the publication date for the next book in the series approached.  My children would compete for the coveted spot of being able to read the book first.

     As the busy mother of three children I read whenever I can.  Sometimes, I read in the car while waiting for the school bus to arrive or for an activity to be over.  I read while eating my lunch, while waiting in a doctor’s office, or while peeling potatoes for dinner!  Finally, I read at night, a habit which endured through all of the stages of raising three children, and has continued to this day.  Sometimes I read until the early hours of morning if I was absorbed by the tale, and suffered through the next day for lack of sleep.

   Over the years, I have explored the works of many authors and many genres.  For a while, for example, I went through a phase of reading memoirs.  Some memorable works include The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls, A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Beah, and Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt. I was struck by their strength of spirit, their unwillingness to give up, and, in Frank Mccourt’s case, his ability to cope with painful experiences by poking fun at them. I often found myself laughing out loud when reading his memoir.  I also enjoy historical fiction, science fiction, and murder mysteries.  I like non-fiction, too, especially authors like Nathaniel Philbrick who make history as engaging to read as the best novel.

   As an English teacher for the past twelve years, I feel like I hit the jackpot.  Not only does my job require me to read, but I get paid to talk about books with my students, and I love it.  I teach American Literature and enjoy sharing my love of books with my students.

  No matter what the stage books are a part of my journey. I can picture myself being old, perhaps no longer able to be as physically active as I am today, maybe not even being able to hear that well, but still being able to read. In my old age, I envision that I will be in my house by the lake in the Adirondack Mountains of NY with my husband and our faithful dog, whiling away the hours with a cup of tea, good company, and a good book.  When our children and grandchildren visit, we will all catch up on what we’ve read lately, and I’ll read my grandchildren a bedtime story.