I’m going through a mid -life reading crisis.
It seems that nothing holds my interest after the first 100 pages.
They might all be worthy, but I’m not the least bit interested in 50 Shades of Grey, the latest vampire saga, the newest Barack Obama biography, a western, a romance, a book on how to up my IQ or rearrange my closets.
At 56 have I done and seen it all?
Have I become jaded?
Am I a book snob?
Must I immerse myself in William Faulkner or Thackeray?
Has my world become so inundated with ebooks, magazines, Facebook, Twitter, to the point that carrying a book home of any genre has become obsolete in my happy little corner of the world? And am I only 1 in millions suffering this malady? Is the demise of the library at hand?
In a word: no.
Once upon a time, I thought I had all the time in the world and if I began a book, I was determined I would read every word.
Now I realize there is only so much time and so many books so I want to choose carefully.
The book Goin’ Someplace Special by McKissack is worthy.
Um, yes, it’s a children’s book.
I can identify with Goin’ Someplace Special.
As a too-skinny, stringy haired, myopic adolescent misfit, the library was my refuge. It was a safe requiem from some very bad mojo on the horizon.
Go take a look at this book, and pass it’s message on to your children’s children.
Hey, it’s much cheaper than a bright red convertible, and will last longer, too.