"Summer reading" is a term I just don't understand. To me, reading is an escape. Just the other day, I went with a friend to a park. We put a blanket on the grass and he got a Julio Cortazar book out. We read La Autopista del Sur together. It was great, the story took me everywhere the characters went and it made me feel everything they felt. That happens to me when I read, I become someone else and when I'm done, I'm left wondering who I am. That was a great read, but I only got through it cause we were reading together. If I had been reading on my own I would not have finished.
To me, summer is about being present (mostly outside). Feeling the sun burn your skin, feeling the water refresh it. Smelling the grass, the lake, the grill. Tasting the fresh produce, the water, the popsicles. Everything but reading. To me, reading is for winter; for those days I can't go outside because it's so damn cold it'd make me cry. But sitting with a book in the summer when I could be doing anything else? That just doesn't click in my head. Those "summer books"... those are for winter, to remind us that there is hope and the sun will shine again!
Yet, I'm soooo thirsty for words right now. It's a shame, because I have a pile of books I want to tackle. I'm thirsty for clever writing and maybe some giggles. Let's see if I pick up a book at some point again this summer. Maybe if it's with a friend, on a blanket at the park.
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