What books mean to me...

I was reading a magazine this evening (while Brian had Declan at the library of all places) and I ran across an article about reading and writing books. The article featured Anne Enright, an author and her views on books. What she had to say on the subject was so fitting and RIGHT that I had to copy her words. She is initially talking about writing books, but for me, the same sentiments apply to reading books. She writes:
"Yes, when I am in the middle of writing, a book is like a love affair (and I think, when it is finished, I will never be able to love again). I look at the books on my shelf and think of them as friends. Books nurture us, as parents do. We can "sink into" them, as into a comfortable chair. But books are not parents, or lovers, or friends, or items of furniture. A books is, for as long it lasts, a state of being. So reading, for me, is closer to meditation, or to being drunk, or to dreaming than it is to anything else. The wonderful thing is that the kind of dreaming you get from a book makes real sense"

And her words really resonate with me. Books are, for me, the most wonderful form of escape - engrossing, captivating and delightful. I love to lose myself in them and hate it when the story finally ends. I suppose that is why I have been obsessed with serial novels over the past few years. I must have a trilogy, at the least! It goes too quickly when you are reading a story encapsulated in just one book.

Anyway, that is my latest ramble on reading. Saved for posterity here on the blog.