When I was a tender youth at the age of 10, the greater parts of my day were spent playing witch craft school with my elder and younger sister. My oldest sister had been married and out of the house before I was conceived, and she was the housewife of a man who worked for a book publisher. None of that last bit really matters except for the fact that her husband could get free copies of misprinted books. The books with barely noticeable mistakes were my key to surviving a quite sheltered life in my younger days. The books with things like “Gumblefore” and “the spaghetti incentive” were my salvation.
My first passions when it came to reading were entire books of the comic strips “Garfield” and “Calvin and Hobbes”. I really loved reading them, as well as trying to figure out some of the jokes that were over my head at the time. I remember a (yet another) sister reading me Robinson Crusoe about the time I was entering kindergarten. I didn’t especially like it, but the main character’s lack of concern for his manservant’s cannibalistic ways did spark an interest in me, which to this day, I cannot forget (regardless of the strength of my efforts).
I read quite a bit from kindergarten to 4th grade, at which time I discovered teenage horror books. I read books from my school’s library, which honestly should not have been in the elementary library. Christopher Pike was the author, and the themes were mostly murderous stepsisters, and prom queens finding their best friend’s head in a dryer. A few cheesy books waiting to be made into lifetime channel movie thrillers later, and the greatest thing ever happened to me. My book connection (aka biggest sister) showed up with 2 sets of 3 Harry Potter books, including the most recently released “THE PRISONER OF AZKABAN”.
Game changer. NAY!
Life changer. (Yes, I was in love with Sirius Black, who wouldn’t be?)
I had found my home. After those were read and eager anticipation for the next book turned to frenzy, I discovered my next love, the works of JRR TOLKIEN.
If the Harry Potter books were home, then Tolkien and the “SILMARILLION” were heaven. It would be ridiculous to lie and say I had a healthy interest. No, I had a vicious obsession. With the Elves. Sindarin Elves, Noldorin Elves, Sylvan Elves, elves out the wazoo. I began teaching myself the family trees and lineage of every elf ever mentioned in any Tolkien work. I taught myself two forms of Elvish and practiced conjugations religiously. I really had found what made me happy.
After that, the need for more elves led me to take the advice of my one and only brother and start the Legacy of the Drow or the Legend of Drizzt Do’Urden by R.A. Salvatore. A new and fascinating realm built within the Dungeons and Dragons worlds that housed all of my elf dreams gratified.
Some Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot, and King Arthur legends later, the real world came to the forefront. After becoming a mother of 3, I can’t seem to find the time to read, and by this, I mean that everytime I try to read, I fall asleep. My reading has slowed, but the love for those perfectly made worlds is still there, and I would give anything to be able to visit them more.