The Summer I (Re)Fell in Love with Reading (Amy K. Nichols)

They say the opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference.

And indifferent about sums up how I felt about reading at the beginning of this summer.

What a horrible confession, right? I mean, I'm an author and what do authors do? They read. But something happened in the late spring. I felt very meh about reading books. 

It wasn't that any one book turned me off to reading. It was rather that I got busy taxiing kids about, washing dishes, revising my novel, goofing around on Facebook, etc. Books fell by the wayside. I grew indifferent toward reading. Every night I'd pass the stack of novels beside my bed waiting to be picked up and read. And every morning when I woke up, they'd still be waiting there, forlorn and lonely.

Poor sad, lonely books. Poor sad, indifferent me. 

But then a couple of amazing things happened that caused me to fall in love with reading all over again!

Photo courtesy of memecrunch.com

First, the calendar told me Book Club was fast approaching, and I had better get reading -- especially since I had chosen the book: Ruta Sepetys' Between Shades of Gray.

The book is a gorgeous read, and while the subject matter is heavy and oftentimes sad, reading Ruta's book felt like warm towels right out of the drier. I couldn't wait to snuggle up with this book. 

Then, I met Neil Gaiman. 

Wait, let me rephrase that: 

I MET NEIL GAIMAN!!! 

And I bought his newest book, The Ocean at the End of the Lane. 

Still in my puppy love glow from Between Shades of Gray, I jumped into Ocean with both feet and didn't stop until I'd reached the mysterious, wondrous ending. 

What a book! By now I was truly head over heels for reading again. 

Not wanting to lose any time or momentum, I picked up one of the novels from that stack beside my bed and tucked in. This time it was The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. 

Actually, it still is The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. It's a really, really big book with really, really small print. I'm at this totally engrossing part where the main character is about to (hopefully) find some clues about the creepy beings who killed his parents, and while I'm anxious to see what happens next, I find I'm reading this book with care, savoring the words and descriptions. If there's a book for savoring words and descriptions, it's The Name of the Wind. 

Also, this book makes me want to do magic. What could be more awesome than that?!

So, whereas in the spring I felt meh, now I feel like this:

These books rekindled my love for reading, and I'm so, so happy. In fact, it feels just as amazing as it did when I first fell in love with reading as a kid. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a book I need to go read.