Hello, I’ve returned.
Today, I was visiting home, and my eyes caught sight of my bookshelf. But not the book shelf itself, but a particular book … the first book I read and actually liked.
By Christopher Paolini.
Now, I think some back story may be required here. There was a time in my life where I struggled with reading. (Basically anything before fourth grade.) I don’t know why–it was hard for me. Maybe I didn’t like sitting still. Or maybe I didn’t like that the teachers wanted us to read out loud. Mostly, I think it was something that I thought was too hard. It gave me terrible anxiety, and I had to be coaxed into reading nearly every time.
But, there was a change.
I still can’t pinpoint it exactly, but I started to hate reading less, and eventually came to accept it. It might have been the teaching styles that changed my mind–less of a “read this, now!” approach and more of an “it’s okay, do your best.” The memories are a little fuzzy (it’s been a long time, and I was so young) but I do remember that sometimes people would take me out of class for special reading sessions and speech therapy. I remember thinking to myself that they were kind for putting up with how long it took me to read. And I remember speech therapy always happened during spelling. (My least favorite thing in the world by the way. I can’t spell at all, but no one knows because of spell check. Ha.)
Anyways, my stress lessened with these special sessions.
I even gained some confidence in my abilities.
And then, I started to read for the fun of it. The words were easier to say in my head than out loud. I started having my parents take me to the bookstore, somehow turning one of my greatest sources of anxiety into something that I quite enjoyed. My parents delighted in my interest, happy to raise a little bookworm.
I know I read somethings before Eragon, but this one stands out the most to me.
I had become the best reader in the class. (Not in the sense of aloud reading in class, but in the sense that I had read more books than the other kids. We had a system that kept track, so I know.)
But if there’s anything that will attract my attention, it’s a book cover with a dragon on it.
So I asked my parents to buy it.
A child asks for a book and not candy? Not another collectible, plastic trinket?
Yes, you can have the book.
And I read it.
And I loved it.
Though it was a little more difficult than I was used to, I read through it, and the next two books at a ridiculously fast rate. Especially when considering the third was probably bigger than my head.
But the fourth … the last one. Was not out yet.
Let me tell you, with my heart attached to these lovely books, it was painful.
I was strung along for years, waiting for that book.
(When it came I was not disappointed. I’m proud of you, Paolini. You did so good.)
But in those years … I kept reading other books, falling in love with other stories.
And that’s when I realized … I wanted to do that too. I wanted to create worlds and people and fill up hearts and minds like these books did for me.
Now, I’m a writer.
I still can’t spell, good luck getting me to read out loud, and I’m pretty sure I still lisp some of my words, but those special sessions for reading … wow. I wish I had known how spectacular it was then that people were willing to take the time with me that I needed to love reading.
This book … Eragon. I think I can trace my love of reading back to it specifically, and I know it’s the book that made me want to be a writer.
When I went home, and saw it on the shelf, though I had looked at its spine nearly everyday when I walked past, for some reason, it stood out a little more.
I took it back to college with me. It’s next to me. Saphira is on the cover, staring out, seemingly right at me.
I’m going to reread the series. I’m stoked.
Anyways, thank you for reading. I just had to get all of that off my chest the moment the book caught my attention.
Have lovely days!
(And buy books for your children / ask your parents to buy you books.)