Many years ago, I read over 40 or 50 books in a year. It wasn’t something I planned, but something that just happened out of the natural curiosity to read and learn as much as I can. I was reading every week–hours each day. I read voraciously as if I my imagination had an unlimited appetite, as if I needed to learn everything about the world.
Out of all those books, only a handful were great. Most of them were good, and a select few were boring. I ventured out to read books that were considered classics (The Great Gatsby, A Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man, etc.), and some for my own interest (Kurt Vonnegut books, War of the Worlds, etc.).
The number of books I’ve read has diminished each year as I got busier with work and with life (traveling, writing, etc.). Though my reading habits have shifted to online articles and short stories, my thirst for knowledge still remains.
I go through phases where I read intensely, and go through phases where I devote my time to writing or planning the next story. I often switch between these phases because staying in one phase for too long runs the risk of burning me out or losing enthusiasm for it. Variety is key to find balance. One half of me wants to learn from other writers–how they tell stories, how they create characters–and the other half of me wants to exercise and develop my creativity.
I can’t say I remember much in great detail about all the books I’ve read. Even my favorite books are just fragments and bits and pieces of awesome scenes in the recesses of my mind. Each book I finished has left an impression on me, though some are more vivid than others.
Reading a book is like peering through a window into a new world. It’s a world of ideas, conflicts, intrigue, and characters. Some books may not resonate with us, but for the ones that do, they stay with us as if we lived through the experience.
Fallton Havenstonne 