Last year, I fell out of love with reading books.
I remember the days of being a kid when the library bus would arrive and I'd carry as many books as possible home with me every Monday after school, excited beyond belief about discovering new worlds and new characters. I hated Bank Holiday Mondays. I didn't care that it was a teacher training day. I wanted my books and I couldn't stand waiting another week for them.
Like most people I know who work in media, I read and read and read when I was a kid. But my habits changed when I went to University to study English. Reading felt like work a lot of the time. Not that it was bad work (discovering The God of Small Things one rainy afternoon was delightful, as was reading Jane Eyre over and over again). But with so many books to get through, reading wasn't a pleasure. Especially not when you're looking out for all the poststructuralism and intertextuality gubbins (that's patterns and politely nicking bits out of other people's work, in case you were wondering).
I learnt a lot, and I probably am quite 'well read' (I bloody hate that term, it's snobby and elitist). But I don't think that's the same as reading for pleasure. I miss that. I tend not to read chick lit, as I find it predictable, but I still miss the immediate escapism it gives you.
And then there's the other problem. That distracting little madam Ms Internet. With all her blogs, tweets and little things, that convince me that it doesn't matter I'm not reading books. I'm reading Other Important Things. I rarely read anything over 2000 words these days. I know it's not like I'm sat in front of the telly doing bugger all each day (I think this year I've worked harder than ever), but when did I start catching up with my RSS before bed instead of F. Scott Fitzgerald? I don't have a commute into town, which probably cuts down my reading time each day by an hour. But I miss it. I miss those new worlds. And from a professional point of view, I'm not sure how successful I'll be at creating them in my own fiction if I don't let myself get immersed in them for fun.
I read about ten works of fiction last year.
That's pathetic. And if I'm honest, pretty damn lazy. And especially noticeable when my housemate reads so much she's started making her way through my bookshelf reading stuff I'd forgotten I even owned.
But! All is not lost! I got me a book voucher for Christmas, and bought that pile of reading loveliness this afternoon. In an actual bookshop, instead of online. I've just finished an interesting Dan Rhodes novel (alas, not as good as his short stories), and The Book Thief is next on my list. In fact, as soon as I've finished writing this I'm going to curl up under my duvet and start it. I want to read every day again. I want to make the effort to try new authors, read new genres and have a form of escapism that isn't attached to my laptop. I don't often make serious New Year resolutions (seriously, if you don't like your life, don't wait until January to change it), but reading books is one that I am going to keep.
Am I the only one who has had trouble reading books recently? Has the internet ruined your reading habits? Feel free to leave reassuring comments below. And, of course, book recommendations.
Reading Between the Lines
Chase Rainbows
Kiss boys, dance, buy flowers, laugh, stroke cats, cartwheel, run down hills, climb trees, make dresses, read books, eat ice cream, tickle children, call my parents, sing loudly (and badly), get a round in, stay up late, go to bed early, buy presents, try new things, walk the wrong way, stop for coffee, write letters, make long distance calls, send postcards, go to the beach, make sandcastles, say 'I love you', make new friends, have sex, throw a party, put work away, get on a train to anywhere, make a home, be a tourist, look at things, wear red lipstick, dance in the street, skip to the shops, make churros, make love, make daisy chains, save compliments, spend money, laugh, eat candy floss, go to the theatre, be naked, be happy, smile.
The rest? I'll figure that out as I go along.
Flickr image from .:[ Melissa ]:.'s photostream.
Home
I took this photo yesterday, after a very precarious walk up the hill to the Observatory. In almost a decade, I don't think I've ever seen Greenwich looking so pretty. This is home. It's perfect.
My Year in Pictures
2010 has been full of... actually, it's just been full. Here are some of my favourite (and not so) favourite bits.
Happy New Year! (January)
Nothing happens in January. Well, nothing I took a photo of anyway. Plotting and scheming happen in January. But this was New Year's Eve. With the best people in the world. Yes, we're all wearing hats. New Year's Day dinner was Turkish food in a BYO. We BOO ingredients to make Bloody Mary's.
Paris (February)
A budget weekend with three of the best girls. We did nothing very much really. But we had the best time. I adore all three of them. Fancy them a bit too, if I'm honest. They're prettiness personified.
Domestic Sluttery's first birthday (March)
Me with the girls on Domestic Sluttery's first birthday. Was pretty in awe of that day. And those girls.
Jim Haynes (April)
My favourite event of the year (and there's been a lot to choose from). I'm incredibly lucky that my career means I get to work with amazing people. The Jim Haynes event with Fernandez and Leluu was fantastic. He's easily one of the most interesting people that I've ever met.
The Depression (May)
I came off my anti-depressants in May this year. I kept the last empty packet. I hope I'll always be well from now on, but I'm not scared of not being on them anymore. I'm just not scared anymore. It's been a long time since I've been able to say that.
Kenya (June)
The best bit of my year, without a doubt. I still haven't quite got over seeing giraffes in the wild, being woken up by hippos and being three foot away from a herd of elephants.
Estonia (July)
This was such a fabulous holiday (no mean feat considering I'd been rushed to hospital with suspected malaria ten days before we flew out). Alex is an excellent holiday-ing partner. But the highlight was that hot chocolate.
Alex Moves In (August)
The most awesome housemate. Here's us in the perfect Cotswolds, just before we rushed back inside and Gemma made us dinner. My house feels more like a home since Alex moved in. And there's often more cake.
Franks (September)
I spent most of summer being sick from a virus I picked up in Africa, so I didn't do very much of anything. But I did go to Franks, I did drink cocktails on a the roof of a multistorey carpark in Peckham, and the view was pretty amazing.
The Arctic Circle (October)
Vast, white, nothingness. Beautiful, scary, nothing. Still haven't quite wrapped my head around the fact that people live here.
Friends and birthdays (November)
This is the beach in West Wittering, where I found myself the day after my birthday. It was my friend Damian's birthday too and he comes here every birthday weekend, everyone has good food and cake and fireworks on the beach. November is always about friends and birthdays for me, this year even more so as my best friend Sam moved back to New Zealand.
The Novel (December)
I know we're only halfway through December, but sending my novel to an agent on request is one of the most exciting things ever. It took a week of 12 hour days to get it ready, I could barely see when I'd finished. But it's good. And I still love the story.
I can't wait for 2011. It's going to kick ass.
