I remember some of the first books I read as a child. I must have been six or seven, when I got two books of the pop-up variety – one was Cinderella and the other was Snow White & the Seven Dwarfs.
Each time I turned a page, magical things happened. I still remember a page from the Cinderella book, which showed Cinderella sitting by the fireplace, looking pensive. On that page there was a broom that popped out, and three small kitchen jars that popped out.
I must have read those books a zillion times. Then started the love for comics, devouring every neatly drawn frame, enjoying the dialogues, more magic.
And then, suddenly my sister thrust an Enid Blyton into my hand and said, “Read this.”
It was the first book of the Secret Seven series. I was initially reluctant to read a book that had no pictures. But my sister sold it to me!
I had taken an important step in my reading journey. Now, I could read words and imagine the scenes in my mind. This was a whole new experience. I gobbled up the entire collection of Blyton books.
‘Twas time to graduate to a new author, but again there was reluctance to move from my comfort zone. My sister was my role model, soon I was trying new books and new authors and new genres.
The years have flown by but my love affair with books continues to this very day. I love their titles, their smell, the many genres, the plots, the stories.
What’s your bookworm journey like? Would love to know.
Simple Moments of Life 