Wednesday, September 3, 2008

what's your favorite book?

“All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost; the old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring; renewed shall be blade that was broken, the crownless again shall be king.”

I hate when people want to know my favorite books. Reflecting on my reading history, I find that I gravitate towards fiction/fantasy books of a decent writing caliber with some of my favorite authors being Anne McAffrey, Brian Jacques, and Alice Sebold. I also love John Green because of his general awesomeness outside the pages of a book as well as within. If an author, like JK Rowling, Stephenie Meyers and J.R.R. Tolkien write long series, the length of time I get to spend in the book makes me even happier.

When I read for an extended period of time, I feel as if my consciousness has been integrated into the worlds on the page. I have always claimed an overactive imagination which I think has something to do with it. Reading takes my mind into a different place, almost a meditative state, and if you've ever tried to get my attention while I'm deep within a book, it may sometimes be a minute before I register your attempts.

Movies have a similar effect, but they don't last as long and aren't as encompassing. I have yet to find anything that can illicit a comparative reaction in my spirit.

I do not really have a 'favorite book', rather reading itself is my favorite pasttime because it takes my mind completely away from the present. It is as if I have fallen through a hole in my reality into the one written and there I get to experience magic, mistakes I will never make, ones that I have all too often, flight, deep sorrow, rainy days in the middle of August and dragon fire in December. It's like a line from a song by Anna Nalick, "you can't jump the track; we're like cars on a cable." When I get the time to read extensively, I do jump the track. I leave the world, and a part of me always resists coming back.

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