Reading is fun, thoroughly enjoyable.
Once you read for fun, or have ever done so, the above statement is rather clear, and rather obvious. But still, I am going to state the obvious and have fun elaborating on this. I hope you enjoy it.
Two weeks ago I bragged about having read four books for 2015. Shortly after writing that post I began searching for ebooks. Thankfully, I can brag that I’m a member of a Facebook group of readers who enjoy sharing. I’ve got books upon books upon books for my reading pleasure, and I am just so anxious to read them.
At present I’ve begun reading James Patterson‘s first book of the Women’s Murder Club series, and listening to David Baldacci’s Zero Day. Can you imagine it? Tell me this isn’t gold living. When I’m unable to sit and read, I listen and when I’ve got the time I read.
If you’ve read the previous post you may remember talk of my inability to absorb and produce simultaneously. Well, I can tell you that I’m getting better and it feels so good. I mean, it feels sooooo GOOD! While writing this post I listened to Baldacci’s Zero Day and was able to keep up quite nicely, not perfectly, but enough to see the scenes, understand the characters, and the plot. That’s pretty good, right?
I can feel myself coming alive. No, I can’t. I truly can’t feel my brain expanding but what I am doing is noticing that my mental capabilities are expanding, and I expect to keep pushing until I feel…intelligent. If it’s not possible to feel one’s self being intelligent or become intelligent I’ll never know, but I will continue pushing.
Reading is fun, and thoroughly enjoyable especially if the writer is superbly skilled. For me at the moment that’s David Baldacci. Despite being a recent find for me, he’s on of the best writers of deceive thriller novels. I discovered him close to a decade ago, however I’d been reading Grisham for years before that.
Somehow having found Baldacci, Grisham’s writing just doesn’t feel as good. This is terrible and fantastic simultaneously. Terrible because I just don’t enjoy Grisham’s quality of writing as much as I used to. Reading his work now comes with added scrutiny and discontent so that I am removed from the work as I read it, and always thinking: “Couldn’t this have been better?”
This is one of the hazards(?) of reading various authors. The more exposed you are the more knowledge, and experience and therefore more analysis and comparison is done. But honesty, I must say, it’s a hazard I enjoy. Being exposed to better writers allows me to acquire better reading material, and become a better writer as well.
Still I’ve continued to read Grisham as a way of researching. That’s the only way of putting it for now. Grisham isn’t bad. He’s just not as good as Baldacci. His plots are still good. All in all there’s no reason to stop reading Grisham’s work.
Who are some of your favourite authors?
See you next week Tuesday. I’ll tell you of my encounters with inspiring autobiographies in the near future.div>