Thievery of Books

As a child in primary (LDS Sunday School for kids) we played some version of the newlywed game.  I have no idea or remembrance of why this was a thing, but I swear it was.  They would ask us questions that they had also asked our parents and see if we answered the same way.  I remember playing it and being asked what my favorite hobby was.  No idea how old I was at the time, but probably 8 or 9.  Having (somewhat) outgrown dolls at this point, my not-very-decisive answer was, "Softball?"  I still remember the adult leading the game responding, "While you're playing softball, apparently you like to...read!"  Yeah didn't get that question right, but on further reflection it's pretty accurate to suggest that reading was my favorite childhood activity.

As an adult I have far less time for free reading than I would like, which makes me sad.  But, I did finally start reading The Book Thief, which numerous people have recommended to me.  I like the way it uses language in unexpected ways.  Its narrator is Death, which is an interesting viewpoint.  Reading a book like that makes me realize that while I enjoy writing, I don't have that gift of language that great writers seem to possess and hone into a beautiful craft.  I love reading a book and being so enchanted or horrified or enthralled in the book world that the author has created that I have no idea of the passage of time.  Tearing myself away from a good book is very hard.  Books seem to steal the time away, like thieves in the night.

While this isn't maybe the best way to introduce the topic, I'm a big fan of public education.  Public education created my love of reading and nourished it into a lifelong hobby.  Tomorrow I'll talk a bit more about my views on public education, but for now, I think I'm going to force myself NOT to read the remaining half of The Book Thief tonight.