I honestly have no idea how many books I’ve read so far in my life. Oh, I take those “How many of these great books have you read?” tests online (here’s a hint: not as many as you’d think) for fun, but at the end of the day I’m not worried about adding to my “great books read” list – I’m just looking for the next thing to read.
I firmly believe that if you’re a reader you are, in fact, a conglomeration of all you’ve read, of every hero, villain, personality quirk, vicarious experience and life that you’ve absorbed, the good and the bad. I am all that I have read.
Of course if you’re a reader you have favorites. Mine are Phryne Fisher, Julia Grey-Brisbane, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Elizabeth Bennet, Irene Adler, Barbara Gordon (Oracle), Meg Murray O’Keefe and Amelia Peabody Emerson, just to name a few. But if I had to pick just one, it would be…
She of claret gowns and scholar’s robes. She’s quiet, unassuming, fucking brilliant and her marriage to Peter is an unintended foreshadowing of the approaching class-crisis in England. She has the brains of Oracle, the self-preservation of Irene Adler, the stubbornness of Julia Brisbane, the drive of Phryne Fisher…well, I could go on.
Yeah I know, I’m none of those things, but…I am…a little. And a little is all that’s needed.
I don’t read to impress you. I read to learn, to grow, and to experience. I’ve found that as long as I can form an emotional attachment to a character I’m able to do just that.
So tell me, who are you?