My New Accessory

I have a new accessory.
It's amazing.
I've received about fifteen complements on it.
My accessory has sparked conversations reaching into the seventh row of an airplane.
I cannot put my accessory down!
So what is it?
It's a book.
A really, really great book.
It's The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.

I have carried it with me wherever I go this week in hopes that I have a chance to open it up and keep reading. From the airplane home from Las Vegas, to work, to the coffee shop, to Peter's house. And the best part was that it went with everything that I wore.
The other day Peter called me out on it: Why are you carrying that everywhere? Did you really have that on your desk at work?! You think that book is an accessory, don't you?

Maybe ...
Why so attached?
Why so enthralled with this wonderful iridescent yellow and green pile of pages?
I think because when I get into a book - like actually digest every word, live through the scenes and dialogues, and embrace the characters' emotions - it still amazes me. I still feel a tremendous sense of pride because there was a time when I couldn't or wouldn't do this.

From first grade to seventh grade I hardly read.
In second grade I read Me and Katy the Pest.
In third grade I read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
In fourth grade I read all the Molly books from the American Girl collection.
Fifth and sixth grades were bleak though. I honestly don't think I finished a book those years.
I always read aloud in class; I skimmed a chapter or two to do my homework; I read the lyrics in my hymnal at Chapel; I read street signs; I even read sheet music very well; but I never read a book.
I tried.
I tried with my cousin, Meghan when she slept over and stayed up late to finish her book. But her speed-reading was discouraging and I figured my dreams would accomplish the same fantastic effect.
I tried with my sister when she would curl up by the fireplace to read the latest Baby Sitter's Club book, but I kept thinking about roasting marshmallows on the fire instead of whatever Nancy Drew was doing.
I tried in Library at school, but my third-grade crush was WAY more interesting than Judy Blume.
  
I always thought books were wonderful and the idea of reading one was even more so. Mostly, because each of my English teachers was beautiful, eloquent, full of romance and had a knack for showcasing our assigned books as if were a prizes on the Price is Right.

For example, Mrs. Bunton was like Mrs. Honey from Matilda. She had the sweetest voice, genuinely loved each of her students and trained her hair to have a perfect flip as it brushed her shoulders. Mrs. Bunton loved books, and I couldn't figure out why I didn't want to read like she did. 

I would borrow books from the Library and collect five or six at a time, sit on my bed, and open them just like Mrs. Bunton. I made sure the cellophane covers would crinkle and creased the inside binding as I read the title to my stuffed animals. I read one page aloud, but without fail, after that page there always seemed to be a distraction - Adam or Erin wanted to play, Debbie wanted to exchange back rubs, Edy wanted to play 500 Rummy, my Mom and Dad came home, the kitchen started to smell like linguini with clam sauce, my eyes started to close as my bed became more comfortable.

In sixth grade Mrs. Lauer came along though. Ahh ... Mrs. Lauer ... she was like a vision out of the Banana Republic catalog circa 1994.  She would sit on top of the head table of our classroom and pulse the rhythms of her literary passions with a signature gesture that made her hand look like a dew drop. She had the most elegant script, used words that only a loyal thesaurus user understands, and made reading look so glamourous.

I was in awe of her. And if she liked reading, I figured this must be good stuff. So I reached the conviction that I would get through one of her book selections. I would sit down, not move, and read.
She picked Red Badge of Courage.
One chapter later I failed.
She picked The Pearl.
Failed again.
Then she picked The Giver.
And I read it in one day.
For the girl who faked her way through Book It! to get multiple personal pan pizzas, this was a huge accomplishment.
AND I got a "GREAT!" from my Mom and Dad who were ceaselessly encouraging me to read.
I loved the book.
It was so real.
It was scary, tense, vivid, and relatable.
It was like a movie in my mind.
I can still see Jonas and Gabriel escaping by sleigh from their Utopian world.
I read it again.
How had I not done this before?!
The next selections were even better - Lord of the Flies, To Kill a Mockingbird, Catcher in the Rye, the Great Gatsby and Animal Farm.
I fell in love over and over again.
I got more "GREATS!" from my parents.
I dove deep into the kind of book worm-dom that I only thought possible for my sister and cousin.

Reading kept getting better in high school with a team of teachers who embodied the characters that they preached about.

Dr. Free was like Jo March, the secret lover of Captain Ahab, and Elizabeth Proctor all in one. She was in love with American literature and with the words that built our nation. She had the imagination, passion, New England saltiness, and moral conviction of her favorite novels. Each time I read a book under her guidance, I lived through the harsh New England winters, got lost in the depth of Faulkner's woods, and found my way to freedom the Chopin way.

Dr. Greco was like the adult version of Jane Eyre. She and her students would runaway to the moors outside of Wuthering Heights everyday. Even in her fitted Ann Taylor suits and lace-up booties, Dr. Greco was the ultimate romantic. You wonder why none of us Ellisians had boyfriends - basically, she convinced each of us that there was no one that could live up to Brutus or Heathcliff. Leonardo DiCaprio didn't even have anything on these men.

So this morning, after successfully finishing the Girl with a Dragon Tattoo last night, these memories come flashing back. When I find the time and a book that is as juicy, well-written, and vivid as my favorites from school, I want everyone to see and talk about my new find. I carry with it pride, knowing my own literary history, and I can still hear my parents saying "GREAT!" when I finish.

I know there are a lot of students out there with the same novel delinquencies that I had. There is a lot going on in the world and sometimes it's hard to find a quiet enough space where you can be alone with the words on a page. But delving in, actually reading something versus reading about something is well worth it, because it's a magical journey.

And since I'm finished ... anyone have an idea for another great accessory?

Lo.