One of the questions I personally
find hard to give an answer to is when someone queries why I read or another is
how I got into books. Of course, the
obvious, tried and tested replies that automatically spring to mind would be
along the lines of ‘Reading is fun’, ‘Reading is educational’, ‘Books are my
best friends’. Well, maybe not that last one quite so much but hopefully you
get my drift.
Of course we read for one or all of
the afore-mentioned reasons although other motivators could include escapism
and a desire to improve language and vocabulary skills. Some readers even go so
far as to claim that reading makes them more empathetic as they not only learn
more about themselves and others through their reading but also as they get a
better understanding of the world they live in. In short, they claim that
reading makes them better people and better listeners.
The science behind how reading
actually affects brain structure is currently being tested by a group of
scientists in the United States. Students will be given a fixed amount of
literature to read and then each student’s brain will be scanned to see what
effect takes place in the brain. This is a revolutionary technique literally
dubbed ‘The Science of Reading’. For more on this report, click this link:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/science/2010/apr/11/brain-scans-probe-books-imagination.
I am no scientist but I still
remember how I felt as a child when listening to my first bedtime story. I
could not tell you specifically what the story was about, and there were many,
but I can tell you that it was as if by magic everything was transformed. You
see, my father was the best story teller. A voracious reader himself he would
thrill us with embellished stories based on the adventures of ‘Shater Hassan’,
a make-believe Arabian character, who crossed swords with the evil Sultan’s
army, defended the weak and fought for justice. All the while getting into as
it seemed never-ending and at times completely daft trouble. So daft that in
one incident and solely for the benefit of his listening daughters Shater
Hassan had to drink tea with mermaids to the dismay of my two brothers.
Father’s captivating narration
was so intense, so enrapturing that when he brandished a twig to fight a
make-believe ghoul, we saw a sword and when he spun us around the room, we
really were at the Sultan’s ball, when we marched it was to the sound of the African
drum we believed with all our heart we could hear in our very ears and when our
hero, armed with only a pistol in his hand, finally came face to face with that
rogue elephant to save the fair maiden, our heart leapt into our mouth. Needless
to say, our hero always won.
As we grew older my father
continued to unlock more and more fictitious doors through which we’d step into
to meet with ever more fascinating characters; Sinbad, Peter Pan, Oliver Twist,
Tom Sawyer and the entire cast of the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales. The
time came when we could find the stories on our own and the books (keys he
called them) replaced our much-loved narrator. Today, his legacy and our
memories are kept alive through the books we choose for ourselves and those we
hand to our children. Reading is what binds me to my father, my past, my
present and my future.
So why do I read? I read to be
thrilled, to be challenged, to be fascinated, to be consumed and emotionally
spent. I read to have my life turned upside down, my beliefs tested and new
ones forged. I return to books as a junkie to a fix. Of course, not every book
will do that as not one key will open all doors and just as a princess has to
kiss many frogs to find her prince. However, when the magic happens and such a book
comes along, with a plot that makes my skin tingle and the small hairs at the
back of my neck stand up, a story that refuses to release me from its grip to
get some shut-eye before next day’s crucial meeting, then that’s when I know my
love affair with reading has not been in vain, in fact is everlasting.
