Reading

Reading is an intimate act, taking story into yourself. Once I figured out how to read (shout out to my fellow dyslexics), it became part of my daily life. Like breathing. One time my ninth grade English teacher threw a stapler at me because I was reading my own book, holding it inside the English textbook. He was teaching sentence diagrams. I went to the board, completed his diagram, and returned to my book. I am told that his face and neck turned as red as his hair. I didn't notice. That year I was reading Heller, Vonnegut, Solzenitzen, Dostoyevsky, Tolkien—rich names with rich stories of conflicted humanity far away from my rural junior high school. Much of my current list is for my MFA curriculum requirements with a few exceptions slipped in. I can't resist a good story.

CURRENTLY READING: Shelfari: Book reviews on your book blog