For new year’s eve we ended up at my future sister-in-law/brother-in-law’s home after a LOVELY day of watching hockey, and their kids, my future nieces, have begged me to read to them for the last few visits. So this time, one of them ran up to me and the first thing she said (after licking my coat, which she does every time I visit for some odd reason) “I have books. I have them ready.” I laughed…and couldn’t believe that!
So I ended up spending some of my eve sitting on a couch with both girls sitting next to me reading the books they wanted to hear. Two different books. That they wanted read at the same time.
But I’m THAT good and succeeded.
You may have already concluded from Friday’s post that I like to read. If not, my study would be very tough.
But I don’t always read what’shisname’s clever texts on the human capability to think – Sometimes I pick up those feel-good books. They come in handy when you just want to sit and absorb the happiness, the troubles and the everyday life written down on paper.
I have so many books that I wonder why I still go to the library. There’s really no need for that. Why do one always go out and borrow books when they have a ton of books they’ve never read? Big philosophical question, no?
One of my favourite easy-and-quick-to-read authors is Cecelia Ahern. What is special about her is that she has kept her childish fantasy alive; the questions you may have asked yourself as a child are the ones she writes about. This is especially obvious in her book “A Place Called Here” (Am. “There’s No Place Like Here”) where the main character is obsessed with finding lost things, for instanse where our socks lost in the washing machine end up.
Her books are a teeny bit serious, yet extremely loving. There is nothing more to her books than that warm feeling. Sometimes we need books like that. I know I do.
Do you have a certain author whose books make you feel good?
It was 20 years and eight days ago that he jumped on the train to Hogwarts. I still remember where I was when reading the first book in the series. Even the second one, since I “swallowed” both books in one go on the beach in L’ametlla de Mar*, Spain.
On the train to my Hogwarts, my University (where we are not taught how to do potions, for some reason or another), I spotted this fancy-looking middle-aged man wearing a Tommy Hilfiger shirt and sitting with his briefcase locked in his arms. He was very focused on the book, he had in his right hand.
He was reading fast with eager I can only recognise from myself. I smiled to myself when he suddenly looked up and our eyes met. He shyly closed the book and showed me the cover while smiling – he was reading Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.
I have regained faith in humanity.
*L’ametlla de Mar is a small village in Spain and means ‘the beach’ in Spanish.