People ask me what I'm reading from time to time and for the last two months it has been the same answer, "It's this book in a really old series, probably not your style." Or, someone tells me about a great book they're reading and I write down the title, knowing it will be a long time before I consider something new. When most people aren't even talking books anymore - Podcasts are the thing now - I'm nose-deep in a book that's 150 years old where the biggest issue of the day is whether a clergy member stole 20 pounds or accidentally thought it was his money. And, even though reading this book isn't making me feel very relevant, I'm loving it.
Everything today moves so fast, is served up in such small sound bytes, that having this tome to return to each night, to just get through a few pages before I fall asleep, slows everything down for me in just the right way and I'm thankful for that. Books don't have to be dystopian, full of supernatural beings, or focus on relevant issues in order to do what books are meant to do, take you away from your life and snuggle you into a different world for a short time, giving your brain a break.
I'm not a slow reader, but dense books take a long time for anyone. And, while I might be missing out on the latest thing for a while and while the cobwebs might grow across this blog that I still love writing for, it's ultimately okay. Reading isn't a race, it's a pleasure even if the soon-to-be-read books on my shelf continue to tempt me to go the tiniest bit faster.
