Bibliophile: On Being a Reader

     I don't know what is worse: Having no one to share the great experience you've had from reading an awesome book, or coming to the end of that experience when you shake yourself awake from the world to which you've escaped, only to wish you were there again with the people you met and the place you have been to between pages. It doesn't seem fair, somehow. 

     I love reading. I cannot understand how anyone would not. To me, reading is a constant feast of the mind, where words become pictures that become dreams, ideas and plans. I grow each time I pick up a book, and my life becomes richer because of the journeys I take through the stories that connect me to the characters I meet as I read. I am always sad when the book comes to its end, because I have to say goodbye, as though departing from a dear friend. Anyone who has not experienced this type of love misses out on the opportunities to bring life's perspective into clear focus. For me, reading is escape, it is connection it is the act of being filled. I became a reader because others showed me their love for reading, and I find opportunities to do the same.

     I never had a time in my childhood in which I was not read to. The first grandchild in a well-educated Black family, reading was not taken for granted; it was considered essential for success. I was constantly reminded of how we as a people were not allowed to learn to read. As a slave, being able to read meant the potential for gaining knowledge, and knowledge was power. That ability, however, if one was fortunate to acquire it, had to be hidden. Concealing literacy was hard to do; once the mind has been trained to recognize print, the eyes cannot help themselves, the mind cannot help itself, and the tongue reflects the wealth of the mind. To not control the possession of this dangerous inheritance

 could mean certain death. But despite the peril, our enslaved ancestors knew that unlike Freedom, once you learned to read, was a gift that no one could take away. You were educated. For this reason, reading was a part of my everyday, my every hour in my life as a child. 

My grandmother read to me fairy tales and nursery rhymes. The lilt in her soft voice was like a sweet song, and even though I didn't know how to read all of the words, I'd still recite along with her. I had a host of aunts and uncles who would read my story books to me, and point to words, letter by letter, sentence be sentence, until I could read entire books by myself. I had Sesame Street and The Electric Company, blaring their catchy songs and funny skits at me on a daily basis. So when I got to first grade, and read my first sentences in our reader, "Janet and Mark", my teacher simply smiled and said,"Delayna, you're a reader!". I felt happy that she learned that day what I already knew. 

I loved books with pictures. Every year, I looked forward to the book fair. Unable to walk home alone with such a large order (usually the largest in the class), my mom would have to come pick me up in the car on the day we received our books.  Finally home with all of my booty, I'd sit in my room for hours, acquainting myself with each new addition to my growing library. 

It never occurred to me as a seventh grader that not having read any chapter books at this point in my life was odd. I mean, I had so many people in my life reading to me that my literary moments did not seem as though they were missing something. I had a ton of novels that my Auntie Jean bought for me, many of them went unopened or only partially read.  Not until one day on a bus ride, returning from a field trip, that I discovered that I had been selling myself short. 

I sat with my friend, Stacey, that day, and she was reading a chapter book. I think I said something about not liking to read books with no pictures, and she just giggled at me. Never one to ridicule, Stacey proceeded to tell me about all of the things I missed out on from not reading novels. She shared her book with me, and convinced me to read a few passages. By the end of the bus ride, I was hooked, and "Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret." became the road to my reading addiction. I have thanked and reminded her of this day on more than one occasion, because she opened a new world to me.                                     

     From there, I just wanted to read all of Life! I'd find bookstores and libraries that were quiet and filled with old and new works. My favorites I'd check out again and again; I still loved picture books, but ones that were centered around ballet and music. They were always filled with stunning photographs, which fed another vice of mine, taking pictures. Looking back on those times makes me nostalgic for the days bookstores were eclectic haunts where the reading experience was more organic. My favorite, Eso Won in Los Angeles, continues to thrive as one of the best bookstores in America at a time when independent business is dying.  The commercialism of today's bookstore franchises, with their identical floor plans, merchandise and bright fluorescent lighting has sterilized what once had an air of mystical romance: One can't comfortably curl up with a book in a giant Barnes & Noble, with the ubiquitous scent of Starbucks coffee wafting through the air. Besides, people now leave their library manners at the door. 

     Looking back, I know that college brought me close friends who loved reading as much as I did; a boyfriend who bought me books instead of flowers, and another who read aloud to me, once while I lay in bed sick with the flu (I married that one). They all had something special about their relationships with literature. I admired the way they read, or how they put the whole of themselves into the interpretation of the book as they explained their perspectives on the characters, setting and plot. When I think about who had the best reading voices, it was often my Aunt Jean, a brilliant poetess and author in her own right, and the many drama students who became my friends. I took pride and pleasure in having read-aloud talent as well, recording myself reading excerpts of books and poems from Amiri Baraka, Alice Walker, and Nikki Giovanni.

     To be a part of literary culture also means venturing out to find like-minded enthusiasts who share your passion for the written word. Organizing  a book club is a goal for me to accomplish in the next few months with friends whom I've had the pleasure of discussing books with over lunch or in passing. What better way to spend more than just a few minutes, delving in deeper to the elements of story, than in a comfortable setting, glasses of great wine in hand? Even if we only talk a little or a lot about the book, the hours spent together make for a fun evening.

     From the lap time of my youth to my now current dilemma of ebook vs. hard copy,  I've shared books with others and find time to escape into different worlds, travel back in time and visit fabulous places just by opening the covers and diving into one page after another. I still have beautiful experiences with friends who introduce me to new authors, exchanging ideas and opinions about the events that are real to us because we've all been there.

     To teach a child to read is giving them a golden ticket, only the ticket is not just the deed to a chocolate factory, it is a boarding pass onto Captain Nemo's submarine, the path down the Yellow Brick Road, and a ride on Max's boat in and out of weeks and over a year. You give them the key to gaining knowledge and information that helps them grow into people who can be catalysts for change.

Being a reader in a culture of literacy, they develop as the creative problem solvers and innovators we need to make the world a better place.

     What are your experiences as a reader? Why do you read? What has your literary journey been like? Do you still have an independently-owned bookstore in your neighborhood? What are you currently reading? Leave comments to share!