Why I Read?
BY MELEK CANSU PETEK (ELIT/I)
As I was studying (!) for my Critical Reading midterm, a question popped up in my mind: Why do I read? I've been a "reader" ever since I learned how to read at the age of seven. From that time on, I've never stopped going around with my head buried in a book, sometimes getting on my parents' nerves and causing them to complain about it to my teachers, sometimes spending all the money I have at a bookstore/book fair -- but none of this made me stop. I've even been told that I must be reading a lot because I'm a loner -- which happens to be one of the most awkward conversations I've ever been a part of -- but I'm happy to say that it's not true; in fact, I do have pretty amazing friends that I can count on.
However, that observation about my motivations for reading does have a bit of truth in it. After all, "We read to know we are not alone." There's a good reason why this is one of my all-time favorite quotes. I've made so many new friends through our love of the same books or simply our love of reading. I've sat down and talked about a passage from a book with some of these fellow book-admirers for hours, without getting tired or bored.
If you think about the world we live in, and remember how fast-paced it is and how disposable the word "friendship" has become, you'll understand why this matters so much. There was a time when reading was merely for the pleasure of it, not to show off what you read in social media. You could have guessed someone's personality through the books s/he actually read, not the ones s/he chose to display. A simple application for you: That's also the very reason why my head is always in the clouds -- I spent my high school years reading so much fantasy fiction that it's hard for me to adjust to "normal" life. Now, I don't want to turn this column into disapproval of social media, simply because I would be a hypocrite in doing so. I do use social media in a very "active" way, but I also question myself regarding that -- just as I question my mental well-being every once in a while simply to make sure that I'm still acceptable enough.
To get back to books and reading, I often get the feeling that some people like reading because they see it as a way to escape. Of course it's a matter of personal choice, but I don't think that applies to me very well. I've never liked the word "escape" and that cowardly sense it has, so let me rephrase it. I see reading as an "entrance," not an escape -- an entrance to new worlds, new minds and new hearts. New "minds," plural, as it is not only the author's mind you enter, but also those of the characters, and believe me, they can be quite independent of their writers. Sometimes the characters you like might be the ones you'd least expect: after all, who could have thought that Dobby the house-elf would matter more to me than Harry Potter, the title character, or that I'd find Tom Bombadil more admirable than Frodo Baggins?
A love of books -- I mean the printed ones-- can be named as yet another good reason why I read. Libraries and bookstores are among the places on my "I'd-be-happy-to-die-here" list. As a matter of fact, Trinity College Dublin will be my first choice for an MA program because of that gorgeous library they have, with its "Long Room" you can see in the picture here. Another thing is that I collect bookmarks, and I sense that my bookmarks feel lonely without their companions -- books. If you find that stupid, listen to this: I heard one of my bookmarks crying the other day because he missed his book friends!
Oh, I almost forgot. As I often do, I have a proposal for you. Yes, again; and yes, you can roll your eyes. But first, let me tell you a story about a strange coincidence. You might have already realized that I love "The Little Prince," and a couple of weeks ago I decided to self-declare a Little Prince Day (since I couldn't find an official one) -- a day I'd read that lovely novella every year. For an unknown reason, I picked April 6. As I was searching for more about the book and its publication date, I was shocked. It was first published on April 6, 1943! What are the odds of that, right? Since this seems to be a "divine intervention," I hereby suggest that you read "The Little Prince" on that very day with me, or else you might be struck by Zeus's lightning!
And I will end this, yet another weird column, with a quote that might excuse it: "She is too fond of books, and it has turned her brain."