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And so, in a little homage to it and my teenaged self and of course to Neil Gaiman, I thought it would be fun to re-imagine the monologue as a reader instead of believer. You know what? It was even more fun that I expected. Feel free to do it yourself: I’d love to see everyone else’s take!
Hers is awesome; be sure to read it. Without further ado, here's my attempt:
I read fiction to escape the world and walk in the shoes of others as they lead lives so different from mine. I read to experience their pleasures, their triumphs, their adventures, and to live through them their obstacles, griefs, failures, triumphs, plans, dreams, hopes, and changes. I read to see a character evolve into something not always necessarily better, but inevitable, a body of change waiting to happen. I read to explore their lives and open myself up to the possibilities of changes myself.
I read to grow in empathy and sympathy to humans and their natures. I read to experience struggles that don't apply to me given my situation - riches I won't hold in my hand, poverty I won't personally survive in streets and cultures I'll never personally see, drug addictions I won't experience or be forced to overcome, professions I will never work in, traveling routes I won't take, wars fought in that I won't battle, illnesses I may never have.
I read to relive. That first kiss experienced, the first stumbling and awkward (but exciting date). That dance at that prom. The first wedding, the first baptism, the first time traveling. The first time in Junior High School, the first time in High School, the first college class. The first time at a first job. The first time making a new friend in a new school. The first time with experiences, the first times with challenges, the first times with growth, exploration, and adventures.
I read through romance the domineering man not popular in today's world, the heightened sexual tension and lust glamorized and fulfilled. I read about dramas and revenge plots where in the ordinary world most would turn their backs. I read about hopeful fairy-tale reunions where everything somehow turns out okay in the end.
I read about Urban, common worlds spiced with mysterious, mystical beings. I read of magic and witchcraft, spells and rules of an invented society. I read of demons in hells that were never born. I read of women with abilities that will never be possible, but are exciting and thrilling to imagine. I read of telepathy, mental abilities, warlocks, mages, sorcerers, necromancers, raising the dead,and meeting before magic councils. I read of epic battles with people fighting those more powerful than themselves.
I read about fun, cute settings filled with murder, mystery,and coziness. I read about serial killers and those who track them, getting into their minds and giving up pieces of themselves for the greater good. I read of psychological mysteries and the minds of killers, predators, and the psychologists, detectives, and those who stalk the stalkers.
I read about sheltered children in classics. I read words written in a dated style, penned when I was only a mere possibility on an eventual family tree. I read about Victorian ages, historical societies, ballrooms, coming of age parties, introductions to society, scandals, kings, queens, bizarre sets of rules I'm happy to be rid of.
I read the fantastical world of super-heroes - those with powers and abilities people would love to have but inevitably corrupt. I read these things to see heroes in their glory with their own tragedies and realisms. Flying soldiers hidden amidst the crowd of adoring children, intelligence overcoming obstacle through invention, determination, and perseverance. Bizarre villains with unique names, intriguing histories, classic trademarks. I read where the world is painted in white and black but being human I can see the semblances of grey through my lenses.
I read about the human body and the herbs and their uses put on earth for treatment. Tinctures, salves, and techniques for making them. Butters, oils, properties and where to purchase them. Time tested recipes handed down through families, through other revered healers, through cautions and warnings and experimentation. I read about different culture and country methods of these preparations, backed with their rich histories, different viewpoints, and sometimes even different classifications by invented body types.
I read books about lives written by the person living them, or books written about those who someone admires and devotes themselves to. Their childhood toward their death, their celebrity status as they make something of themselves that most of the world can only dream of. How they were shaped, how they made it big, their ups and downs, their tragedies and scandals, their great causes and specialness.
I read books with beautiful covers, mysterious settings, and wide eyed heroines. I read books with covers of crumbling castles, women running away in the fog, and ominous shadows. I read books with covers of women turned backwards, their dresses billowing in the wind as they look over a cliff. I read books with cute covers of witches in the bookstore stirring a potion while a cat hovers nearby on the shelf. I read books with green dragons circling a cavern. I read books with new, shiny, prestige covers. I read books with old, obviously used covers, their spines crinkling with love and age. I read books where the paper smells of an old, foreign spice.
I read books filled with characters that make me feel alive, that help distract me when I need it, to entertain me, to excite me, to romance me, to make me think, to educate me, to experience pleasures, to continue my personal growth. I read books to feel whole, to enjoy the little things in life which enhance it so. I read because it's art, and art is one of the best mediums to live through. I read to escape. I read to live. I read to enhance my own life and keep living it fully because of books.
Feel Free to Do one of your own with this theme
