Owls and Orchids

“A home without books is a body without soul”.  by Marcus Tullius Cicero

image courtesy of cindysbookclub.blogspot.com

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I love reading, always have and by now, really don’t believe  that will ever change. In this move to the digital format I am losing something I’ve always treasured. It’s that moment when you first open your new book, fresh from the bookstore. It has a crisp feel, fresh, new, the smell of paper and ink and the knowledge that it hasn’t been read by anyone else.  A freshly brewed cup of tea by my arm, my book in hand and I’m set for an hour or so.  Ok, if I’m honest I may have to take a few breaks but I can be lost for the entire day, or night.  It’s a wonderful feeling.  I can fully engage my characters, even insert myself into the story as one of the characters and then I’m also living an entirely different life from the sometimes mundane one we have to tread day by day.  Reading the last page is torturous. You hope and pray the author has a sequel (or three) in mind and you can pick up once more where you have to leave your other life. It truly is a marvellous escape and apart from the cost of the book (yes, it isn’t always inexpensive) it harms absolutely no-one, yet allows you the opportunity to live in a magical, foreign landscape for a time.

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“Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. If a soldier is imprisoned by the enemy, don’t we consider it his duty to escape?. . .If we value the freedom of mind and soul, if we’re partisans of liberty, then it’s our plain duty to escape, and to take as many people with us as we can!”
― J.R.R. Tolkien

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By now I think you can gather that I’m a totally absorbed by good print media. I’m afraid I cannot, nor would I sully my description of a good read, to include the many tabloids abounding today. (Papers, magazines, take your poison). In their attempt to capture audience they have devolved to publishing half-truths or total fabrications without license for who they hurt in the process.   We are bombarded by half researched , ill-conceived and dangerous posturing from our ‘purported leaders’ and passed on as gospel by the journalists who write the stories.  I don’t altogether blame the journos, most have so many strictures placed on them to conform to “the powers that be” that they are unable to print the truth any longer if they wish to continue to work.  I will now hop off my soap box and return to normal viewing!

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image courtesy of  katarinahalimloves.wordpress.com

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I have my trusty kindle now.  After many years of looking longingly at my library – which needs a removal truck just to carry them all,  I finally relented and bought one so I could once again immerse myself in my favourite form of escapism.  Looking day after day at my books, many of which are three or more inches thick, I could not hold them up because of the pinched nerve in my neck, which also stopped me from propping the book up and looking down at it.  After all, what good is a good story if it’s over with before you’ve managed to really sink your teeth into the story? Torment and torture on a daily basis.  Withdrawal symptoms which had reached a magnitude undreamed of.  I’m sorry, but that is how it felt, each and every day as I walked longingly past my treasured friends, running my fingers lovingly across their spines and wishing to be able to find a reading nook and curl up and lose myself temporarily within their covers. (sigh!)

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image courtesy of  xbitlabs.com

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One of my all time favourite escapism novels has been written by Robert Jordan, an amazing writer and wonderful storyteller.  His Wheel of Time series is huge – thankfully, and I add more condolences to his family at his passing a few years ago. Such was his passion and dedication to his craft that, on finding out he was terminally ill, he spent his remaining time dictating his unfinished series, numbering fourteen novels now, each larger than the first, to his wife and a ghost writer to complete after his passing.  We are now, that is all this avid fans of this series, awaiting the final instalment of this marvellous series.   He is, in the area of science fantasy, in my opinion at least, one of the marvels of our time. He managed to capture his audience on book one,  have so many sub plots and storylines running that you could draw a mind map to follow the convolutions, but so vivid, so incredibly believable that not for one millisecond did you doubt that you were right there, in the midst of the chaos and magic!  He reminds me of  J R R Tolkien, and  J K Rowling, different times and places but with an ability to transport their audience to a place totally unfamiliar at first but captured within moments in the brilliance of their writing. Ooops there I go again, waxing lyrical.  (I hope this doesn’t count as a soapbox too?)

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This is by no means the topic I was going to write about – it has taken on a life of its own and I will have to go back to my identity crisis later.  My kindle is calling, and my darling husband has just brewed me a pot of French Earl Grey tea. He has already learned one cup of reading time is simply not enough – wonderful man!  It’s a wonderful and gratifying thing that I can have so many loves in my life, the love of a good book, the amazing love of a wonderful man whom I adore and cannot bear to live without, the love of my fragrant garden,  the wildlife which visits me daily, especially my Boo Book Owl.  My family, my friends, the wonderful people who have honoured me by reading my blog.  Love you all dearly.  I’m learning and need to sort out how to tailor my meandering thoughts so that I know you’ll enjoy the saunter through my musings as much as I enjoy writing them. Perhaps that’s the message from my divergence into the world of reading; it’s what moves the author which eventually moves the reader.  Hmmmm.  Profound in its simplicity.

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I’m away to my kindle and Robert Jordan, French Earl Grey and I’ll be back later.

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image courtesy of azonmania.co.cc        (unfinished series)

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“Reading is to the mind what exercise is to the body”.
Joseph Addison

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