The other day, I realized that when I’m reading a book, I like to find a spot to read it, and then stick with that spot for the duration of the book. I never consciously think to do it. And I don’t know that I’ve been doing it for very long. But I do enjoy looking at the books on my shelves and being reminded of the places where I read them…
I started reading The Jungle while I was sitting at jury duty on a gorgeous spring day, and I read it for hours and hours (obviously; I was at jury duty.). I was completely absorbed by that book, and I remember thinking how awesome I thought jury duty was, because all I did was take a day off work, sit, and read a book all day. What’s not to like about jury duty, right?!
The bulk of A Tree Grows in
I remember reading much of The Three Musketeers while I was taking a train from Frankfurt to
Frankenstein was read between classes at UCI at a
I literally couldn’t put Into the Wild down when I brought it to Bagels and Brew, not even to eat my lunch. The
Most of Lolita was read at the Staybridge Inn off
I remember reading Pride and Prejudice in my room at my parents’ house on the Oregon coast…I have a pretty comforter with flowers on it, and the walls of the room are white and simple. It just feels and smells Jane Austeny there. I can remember the smell right now…it smells like newness and possibilities. The summer after that when I was back there, I read
It's almost magical how the glance of a book on my shelf brings back these memories and the stories that are precious to me.