Being Choose-y With Books

I’ve always wanted to be the kind of girl who can take other people’s book suggestions seriously and buy the book.

I am not that kind of girl.

I’ve always watned to be the kind of girl who goes to a monthly book club carrying her book and a hostess/potluck addition and sit with other people and talk cleverly about books and be cute and fun and fabulous.

I will probably never be that kind of girl, if only I will be bringing an ipad and a bottle of wine, otherwise I intend on being that kind of girl.

I have always been the kind of girl to search for books on her own.  I have on occasion heard a fabulous review from a close friend and bought the book and read it in the next term of time, but that is rare, because I have a weird thing about reading books that only I have read.  Like if I read this one book that I am the only person to be experiencing this book and world and characters and I am somehow infinitely more important to this book, than anyone else in the world.

For example I am reading a book (slowly) right now called Billy and Me.  It is about a middle-aged woman who works at a tea shop and it is fabulous, and I found it on my own by chance in a roundabout way, and I appreciate that journey to the book and for that I am so happy because now I can recommend it to others but never expect to talk about it with anyone.

I am a strange kind of girl.

I want to be the kind of girl who goes into a bookstore with fifty dollars and comes out with armfuls of new amazing books.

Instead, I am the kind of girl who goes into the bookstores with no money, picks up and reads the backs of books randomly and slowly (and very close up) and then texts the good lookin’ titles to herself to go home and illegally download or properly buy audiobooks so that she can be the person to experience the book.

I am a strange kind of girl.

I want to read more Canadian literature, and Middle Eastern literature, and classic literature, and political literature.  Instead I am reading a book about a British middle aged woman in a tea shop.

I am the strangest kind of girl.

And yet I am in love with my reading habits.  You know why?

Because for four ENTIRE years of my life I was unable to read more than one book that was for my own self.  Not more than one book a summer that I chose myself and wasn’t for a seminar or a paper or a class.  NO BOOKS were chosen by my strange roundabout choosing way.

So now, I am so in love with the fact that I can take an hour in local bookshops, read fifty backs of books, and go home and read maybe two, and from those two only enjoy half of one, and be able to go and choose another one the next week or day or minute.  I have that freedom.  Being an adult is awesome.

I am a strange, strange kind of girl.

Xx Jess


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