Books

I know I sound like a broken record. I love books. I am still trying to make friends with my husband's Kindle, the various e-Reader apps on my iPhone or the family iPad. My daughter and I are participating in her school's 5th grade book club and I vacillated over the Kindle edition of the book and the “real” book.

I bought the “real” book.

Physical books just hold an allure for me, which is rather like a siren's song. We are close to drowning in books at our house. Kids books, my books, books in the family room, books in the living room, books all over the kids rooms, in my room. A book in my purse, a book on the night stand, books, books and more books are everywhere.

When my husband laments he can't find a book to take with him, I practically choke. (The harsh reality is, he just isn't all that into, you know, reading.) Our son seems to be trending that way as well. Although, I have hope, I think our little guy would like reading more, if there were more books, at his level, that were nonfiction and not written in that awful condescending tone adults so often use when “watering” important things downs, so the “little ones” will understand it.

I also think that fiction, in the early grades, is just not all that interesting to many boys. My little guy would love to have a fictional boy like himself, who tries to solve the amazing mystery of Super Mario II by employing the super sleuthing of a serious and dedicated You Tube surfer. Seriously. (I know, I know, I am a writer and I should jump on this obvious hole in the area of children's fictions, and I might, although 80 You Tube videos later, I still don't get the mystery of Super Mario II or any other video game for that matter.)

A few weekends ago, my daughter and I were at a street festival in a small town near us and we were generally enjoying the festival, the food, the people watching and the the prospect of riding a few rides after our dinners settled. As we walked along the street, I spied a used book store, a locally owned and operated used book store.

In near unison, we cried, “Books!” and made a mad dash to the door. We looked around and were nearly distressed when it appeared there was no young adult or children's section. We were wrong. Once found, we settled onto the floor, engrossed in books, me looking a fairly sizable collection of “Sweet Valley High” novels and trying to get my daughter excited to look at the books “mommie read when she was younger.”  It took my friend, gently touching my shoulder and pointing out to me: “You are looking at Sweet Valley High books, she has already grabbed up Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and is eyeing Goosebumps.”

Ah, alas my daughter and I have very divergent literary tastes. She has always trended to stories about fairies, scary creatures and mysteries of all shapes and sizes.

I think that is the one thing that I really like about books. There is no shortage of genres or stories or storytellers. Reading allows everyone to escape into a world that interests them most. Maybe someone wants to learn more about the history of wheels and someone else wants to immerse themselves in the world of warlords from the 17th moon of Saturn. There really is no limit.

With the focus on test taking skills and data metrics and benchmarks and achievement, I think we have lost sight of the fact that while reading is a useful skill, a must have skill to achieve anything in our modern world, reading is also about pleasure. Very few “school skills” have such a profound dual purpose.

Many of us read daily for a variety of purposes. I read the ingredients on the cereal box. I read a recipe to fix dinner. I read the directions on Google Maps, in an effort, sometimes vain, to not get lost. I read the news stay marginally informed. I read text messages and emails, to stay in touch with friends and family. I read and read and read and yet many nights, the last thing I do before I switch off the bedside lamp, is to read a book, because I enjoy it.

You can go to Elisa Phillips' blog at: www.elisaphilips.blogspot.com