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I don’t remember when or how I fell in love with reading. I know that I learned to read extremely early. I went to an experimental kindergarten where they were trying out a new way of teaching kids to read. At least in my case, it was a complete success. I was reading fluently when I was two and a half.

I remember when I was in elementary school, maybe around 3rd grade, and at night I’d lay in my bed and read myself to sleep. When one of my parents came in to turn off the light, I’d pull out my flashlight and read under the covers. When they eventually took that away, I’d lay on the end of my bed and read by the light coming in under the door. Each night it was the same routine with the morning bringing me getting my flashlight back with a dire warning about my eyesight (oh, that I had listened!)

I loved the smell of books. After a visit to the bookstore I’d lay in bed and bury my nose in my new books. The pages brought back memories of days and nights where I’d read books nonstop. Everyone in my family was a reader. At dinner some families watch TV, we read books. Everyone would bring their book to the table and we’d fight, not over elbow room, but over room to prop up our book with one hand while we ate with the other.

As an adult I read so much less than I ever did as a child. Responsibilities have taken over and driven out the time for reading. I still have windows, obviously, but the time for picking up a book and finishing it two hours later is gone. But I still have my love of reading. No one wants to go with me to the bookstore because I take so long perusing the shelves. I have a routine. I first visit the language section, then the clearance section, then children, then science fiction. After that my route changes with each trip, depending on what genre I’m interested in that day and what catches my eye.

So reading a book about another person who loves reading books (and is writing about that love) is perfect for me.

*Edit* Sorry for the cut off post. I’m not sure what happened to the rest of it but I noticed that it disappeared when I looked at my blog just now. Anyway, the ending of that was about So Many Books, So Little Time. I’m further into the book and the bitterness about that sentence has worn off and I love the book again. I love reading about reading! 🙂 (As proven by my extremely long list of book blogs in my Google Reader.)

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