I actually started this post back in February, but never really got enough inspiration to write more than a few words. That changed yesterday when I read this article over on HuffPo. The author is so spot on with her calling out the book snobs.
I used to worry about what other people would think about the books I was reading, especially when I was at Brown for grad school.
Who cares if I enjoy some lighter fare every now and again? How is my enjoyment of a book with a shoe on the cover any different than your enjoyment of some crazy episode of Real Housewives of who Cares?
To me, reading is one of the most amazing– and simplest- joys on earth. My happy place in life, my dream of running away to a desert island, or my dream job- they all involve books and reading. Most of my early childhood memories involve a book. My library card is one of my most valued possessions, and I look forward to starting a new book more than I do a new pair of shoes– and I love shoes.
Why should it matter if you’re reading some great tome of literature and I’m reading a book that has a pair of pink shoes on the cover? Isn’t all reading wonderful– and isn’t all reading learning? I would never book shame a person who chooses to read a formulaic suspense novel bought at the supermarket checkout because they are doing it for their enjoyment and personal interest. That’s why there are so many books out there- to fit so many levels of interest and intellects. And isn’t that an awesome thing? That I can share a love of books/reading with someone even if they like science fiction and I like history? We may not have anything in common EXCEPT for the love of reading and the written word. Regardless of whether it is philosophy or women’s fiction, we have the shared experience of getting lost in the words and of immersing ourselves in the experience of falling completely lost in a book.