Image by anantns at flickr.com
A reading light could be the most useful treasure for a young Book Worm set upon exploring the written world, instead of sleeping. A torch, even, for the more rebellious.
When I was a child, I would sometimes read until dawn broke across the sky, too enchanted to feel tired. My mum soon grew weary of turning off my light and took to confiscating my books, so I could fall asleep.
This, of course, wouldn’t do. I was a rebel with a cause, I had to find ways to be sneaky, and find them I did. --->
When I was a child, I would sometimes read until dawn broke across the sky, too enchanted to feel tired. My mum soon grew weary of turning off my light and took to confiscating my books, so I could fall asleep.
This, of course, wouldn’t do. I was a rebel with a cause, I had to find ways to be sneaky, and find them I did. --->
The first time I used my reading light, I felt so defiant. Like the hero in my story, nothing could stop me. But I was never quite as bold as that gallant dragon slayer, Hermione or Bilbo.
The moment I heard foot-steps approaching, I would unceremoniously fling my book aside, too panicked to even mark the page, scurrying beneath the covers and closing my eyes. I would feign innocence, adopting a peaceful look on my face.
Too peaceful, perhaps.
She would always know.
And that would be the end of that, until my next adventure. I was addicted to the written wor(l)d. Just one more page, I would say. Just one more page, twenty pages later. Just one more…
After all, how can you put a book down, half-way through a story? You can’t leave that beloved character to face the demons on his own. You’re in his head, breathing his dreams and fears, you won’t abandon him for something as trivial as sleep.
At the same time, you feel completely safe, and free. Outside of your body, almost. Your mind is fully engaged, but no longer your own, numb to all thoughts outside the novel, and that’s a gift.
Not much has changed, since then, except I’m now old enough to read freely and my taste has evolved, guiding me to a wider range of tales - the deep and shattering, as well as the inspiring, whimsical and hilarious.
What should I read next? This is a question constantly playing on the minds of Book Worms, of all ages.
The moment I heard foot-steps approaching, I would unceremoniously fling my book aside, too panicked to even mark the page, scurrying beneath the covers and closing my eyes. I would feign innocence, adopting a peaceful look on my face.
Too peaceful, perhaps.
She would always know.
And that would be the end of that, until my next adventure. I was addicted to the written wor(l)d. Just one more page, I would say. Just one more page, twenty pages later. Just one more…
After all, how can you put a book down, half-way through a story? You can’t leave that beloved character to face the demons on his own. You’re in his head, breathing his dreams and fears, you won’t abandon him for something as trivial as sleep.
At the same time, you feel completely safe, and free. Outside of your body, almost. Your mind is fully engaged, but no longer your own, numb to all thoughts outside the novel, and that’s a gift.
Not much has changed, since then, except I’m now old enough to read freely and my taste has evolved, guiding me to a wider range of tales - the deep and shattering, as well as the inspiring, whimsical and hilarious.
What should I read next? This is a question constantly playing on the minds of Book Worms, of all ages.
My friend Monica showed me this useful website which suggests books it thinks you'll enjoy, based on their similarity to the one you’ve nominated.
My rebellious reading days are now over, ending my need for a book light, but never for new material.
This website may not fall into the same category of treasures as my trusty Reading Light, (and really, what could?) but it’s high up there, opening the door to new literary adventures, all worthy of reading by torch-light.
My rebellious reading days are now over, ending my need for a book light, but never for new material.
This website may not fall into the same category of treasures as my trusty Reading Light, (and really, what could?) but it’s high up there, opening the door to new literary adventures, all worthy of reading by torch-light.
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