The Magic of Books

I can practically smell them.
Source

If someone said to me that I could only choose one form of entertainment to indulge in for the rest of my life, I don't think I'd have to think very long before I chose books as my answer. I mean sure, after a while I'd go mad from the silence or I'd miss just slobbing around on the sofa watching pointless television, but I think I'd still stick to my choice. There's just something about a good book really. No other art form allows you to use your imagination in such a way- to basically allow it to fly free and roam where it will like a small inquisitive creature. In a film, you might have an establishing shot of a corridor to subtly let you know where the scene is about to take place, but in the world of books that corridor might be described in a hundred, maybe a thousand words- enough for you to paint that picture in your head of where the character is standing, enough so that you're almost transported there yourself, you can smell the smells and feel the door handle in your own hand.
I've always been a reader, since I was a small and precocious child and learned to read by a stupidly early age. I would always choose to sit and read a book rather than running around, and because I was severely anaemic for my entire childhood and therefore got tired out easily, I was perfectly happy to take the more sedate path through life. Something about reading has just always struck a chord in my own head- discovering new worlds through the words of someone else is something I consider to be purely joyful. Perhaps it's because I have a good imagination (although cause and effect of this is hard to decide upon), so I can paint a picture in my head of what I'm reading and fall through the page until I almost inhabit it. Even as an 11 year old, I was hesitant about seeing the first Harry Potter film because I didn't want it to ruin the images I had in my own head with tiny Daniel Ratcliffes strutting about and being awful. Luckily, I seem to have escaped lightly, I can mispronounce 'Weasley' to my heart's content in my own head and imagine Quidditch properly. Books can grab me in a way that no other art form has been able to- they take my emotions and shake them around without a care and give them back to me. I'm quite good at not getting emotionally affected by things I see happening on a screen (exceptions being the theatre when I'm already feeling emotionally fraught) but I've been shaken up by books more times than I can count. I am of the school of people that has to go out and do something once I've finished a book that's got inside my head because I can't shake the feelings that have been put there because I'm too involved with the characters. Particularly if someone's just been killed off or revealed a big life changing secret right at the end, it gets to me and I always have to find a way to stop feeling melancholy for no actual reasons at all. Basically, I'm this girl: Date A Girl Who Reads (Rosemarie Urquico) and I love the sensation of getting lost in those stories, not realising time is flying past until I finish the book and suddenly notice it's dark outside. I fully intend to have a house full of bookshelves bursting at the seams with tatty books that I've read hundreds of times and still spend too much time smelling the books in second hand book stores. In this modern world of technology and non-stop hustle and bustle, my favourite past time is the simplest of all, just some pages of words sandwiched between two covers, words that hand me the key to my imagination and allow me to set it free to do as it will. Words that can wrap themselves around your heart and squeeze until you cry, or make you sit there gaping at what you just read, or give you fits of silent giggles while you're sat on a bus trying not to annoy people.
Give me a good book, any day!

-Jenni-