Books (again!)

A few years ago when the last Harry Potter book came out I, like hundreds of other fans, queued up outside of Waterstones for my copy just before midnight. There were all sorts of people, both old and young all joined together for that one evening in the mutual desire to devour the final episode of the magical boarding school books. I wondered what made people wanted to get there and get the book at the earliest possible opportunity; some just wanted to be there ‘in the moment’ as I recall one person saying to their friend, another couldn’t bear to have their brother finish the book before them. But most of us there also shared another common factor, another reason why we were there other than to know how the saga ends, a love of reading. In a time when people can wiki a plot in seconds, read online reviews until they have got the gist and enough information to wing it in a discussion or simply watch the film version ,people still love to have a physical object that they can read again and again. To laugh, cry and despair at mistakes made. We form an almost romantic attachment that cannot be reproduced by any film no matter how brilliant the actor. For a sociable generation some of us still like to hide away with a well thumbed copy of our favourite piece of literature that challenges the world we live in or even sheer bodice ripping trash, with a mug of warm tea.

But others simply don’t feel the same way, often due to being forced to read a battered copy of Dickens (in my case it was Great Expectations , the exam board having a laugh at our expense no doubt) or another great Victorian writer some time in our youth, that was missing a page or two but had gained a few biro scribbles along the way and to make the matters worse the book was rammed down our throats for three weeks, then after the teacher heralding the novel as the greatest example of literature that we would ever experience in our apparently ignorant lives, being given an several thousand word essay to top it all off. Rarely in this forum are we given the chance to willingly know the characters, to fully understand the plot on a level that would interest us not just to satisfy the mark scheme. One of my friends would hide in a corner and take a nap during English, for almost every lesson during this period and not once did he get caught out because he used online notes and did a lot of revision to come out with his A*. But did he care for the characters? When I asked him what he thought of a chapter that almost moved me to tears, he did not know what it was until I fully explained in detail. It made me realise, we are not taught to love the plot line for what it is but for certain target ideas to be displayed. No wonder we can fall out of love at a young age with literature.

Now I am at English A level and I am given the opportunity to love the words for what they are in a slightly less concentrated format, but some people will have a permanent barrier. Others will simply have never been given the option of books or the closest they will get is a gossip rag, but that’s okay. If we read it increases our brain power and extends our vocabulary, not to mention the satisfaction about finding out something new. Most importantly unless it’s essential, read what you like and it’s you who is satisfied, never (unless it’s for career or educational reasons, obviously) read anything unless it’s for your own entertainment, although it never don’t be afraid to try something new and broaden your view point.

 Recently my friend Jesse as a fellow potter maniac challenged me to see who could read all of the books in order and finish first. I hadn’t read the first book Harry Potter and The Philosophers Stone for some time so it was fun to experience it all over again. I took my time reading them, savouring the plots and still finished before her as she tried to rush and kept forgetting things so having to go back over (the agreement was also that we had to be able to talk about the plot in detail without the aid of the internet). Jesse tied herself in knots and abandoned the whole idea. I made the same mistake when I was reading the Twilight books, I rushed through them to find out what would happen, but not wanting to skip anything in case it didn’t make sense later (it didn’t). But I picked myself back up and started to read them carefully, and then understanding what was going on. This just goes to show that you can’t be forced to enjoy some thing if you force yourself to read for leisure. Exam boards can do it as it’s the way of proving the standard of education. But you don’t need to prove anything to yourself. Thomas Jefferson once said “I cannot live without books”. I pretty much feel the same because nothing else can make me feel the same.