I've loved reading ever since I picked up my first book. I think it was a Richard Scarry pocket edition, Mr Fixit Fox. I can't even estimate how many books I must have read by now.
I have a possibly bad habit of re-reading old, well-loved books over and over again, rather than picking up a new book. The rationale behind this is: I know what I love about the old books, and I don't mind reading something I've read several times before because good writing is something that can be enjoyed countless times without losing any of its savour. With a new book, there's always the risk that it'll turn out so bad that I get literary food poisoning (when I would rather expel the entire contents of the book than have any ideas, impressions or memories from it remain in my mind).
It's now the evening of the second of two consecutive public holidays. With the remaining hours of free time before the hectic schedule of closing week begins, I'm having a hard time choosing between: CS Lewis' The Voyage of the Dawn Treader; The Treehouse by Naomi Wolf; and The Golden Road by Lucy Maud Montgomery.
I first read The Golden Road when I was 12 and the older I get, the more I love it. The same goes for all the Montgomery books I've read. Someday, when I have more time, I'd love to write about why I love the work of this late-19th-century Canadian author so much. Right now, I have a date with...?
This time, I think Lewis wins. The beautiful leather-bound, gold-edged copy of the entire Chronicles of Narnia I was given two Christmases ago is as much a delight to touch, smell and see as to read, and who doesn't love a little multi-sensory enjoyment?