When Your Friends Are His Too…

Red doesn’t value my opinion in many things. Par for course since he’s a husband. But my choice in music (Hindi, loud and boisterous to some throat warbling that I’m ok to listen to), movies and books is where his skepticism is the highest. I can honestly say he reads stuff that’s lightyears away from being on my radar. He reads fiction, non-fiction both but it’s a bit cerebral for me. I’m more of the whodunnit, whytheydunnit and aretheygonnacatchwhodunnit– kinda person.

Now I have a friend who he gets along with quite well. She’s smart. She READS. And she doesn’t read fluff- some of the traits that have endeared her to him more than others of my circle. A few days ago I happened to see a book reco from this friend of mine and ordered it because it seemed like something Red would enjoy and I wouldn’t have to tax my fluff-lovin’ brain much either.

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I’d just told Red that I ordered a book for him and his eyes widened in alarm! I had to tell him who reco’d it and he started breathing normally again. Sheesh! You give a guy Beloved to read once and he holds it against you for life! And this from a guy who enthusiastically read about ‘electric sheep‘! Bleh.

 

You Are What You Read…

Red reads “interesting” things. He reads fiction, non-fiction and plenty of things that ‘thinking’ people seek out.  Am far more pedestrian and I think I know the answer to that as well…let me just pull up my virtual couch as I hark back to my childhood for the insight.

When I was in 5th grade, our class teacher was very passionate and stringent about our reading habits. And with the baggage that came from being from part of a race that’s been persecuted and vilified throughout history; she exposed us to books which left a lasting reluctance in me seeking out thinks which were a “heavy” read. And I don’t mean tomes necessarily. I mean books which made a 11-year old year child in a foreign country sad, restless and not quite content.

Books, in my family, are a gift for all occasions. Toys will come and go but books will sustain. The kind of books I was given ranged from folk tales, mythologies and even things which helped me do school projects (thank you Barnes&Nobles for your books on the Roman civilization). And for the most part they all had a common thread running through them; they were fun to read or they entertained at some level.

When I read Friedrich, When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit, The Number on my Grandfather’s Arm or Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry I had too much to process for my pre-adolescent brain. Books that were fun to read aka Pippi Longstockings, Anne of Green Gables series, Judy Blume’s works or Harriet the Spy et al were still good to dive into but the somber tone struck by the Holocaust and the stories of racism especially during the Great Depression has made me wary of anything that seems even remotely “serious”. For the same reason I seldom seek out the dramas in movies either. Red runs towards drama and I veer towards stuff that’s the White Chicks ilk.

I am a semi-closeted romance book reader, the HEA notwithstanding. I like reading Regency stuff; having been introduced to Georgette Heyer and her peers by my godmother. The thing with the lighter kind of reading material is you can pick it up, put it down and not go off into raptures or trip into a long, winded thought process and still enjoy it. I need to feel entertained at the end of it all. Not necessarily feel like I came away with more stuff to chew on.

My favorite authors for the past few years have been Jonathan Kellerman, Jana DeLeon, John Sandford, P.J Tracy, Rick Riordan. Their works aren’t creampuff by any stretch of the imagination but they are all aces in the entertainment segment.

So that’s me then…a Regency-romance, police-procedural, mythology-geek, serial-killer book loving mom who is currently giggling through The Adventures of Captain Underpants and groaning through the Geronimo Stilton series. And it’s true now as it was 30 years ago..if I have a chance, I’ll pick up a book or the Kindle over most things and just lose myself in it.

To sum up in the words of the great Stephen King, “Books are a uniquely portable magic.” 

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