A few weeks ago I was on Amazon, scouring the Kindle section for my next book, when it 
hit me: summer reading and I have come a long way. Gone are the days when I’d groan upon receiving my dreaded “Required Reading” list, the one thing keeping me from fully disembarking from school and floating blissfully into a summer of staying up late and watching The Sound of Music over and over (I never said I was cool back then). I remember finding out that I had to read Oedipus between sixth and seventh grade, and immediately a pit formed in my stomach–if I can’t pronounce the title of this book, how am I expected to read it?!
The funny thing is, I actually love to read. But it seemed that as soon as someone told me I had to read, and what to read, the joy somehow fell away. Many things in life are this way, of course. For instance, I always loved my dance classes growing up, which required a ton of energy and endurance, but as soon as I was in gym class and was told to run the mile…I began to feel like I was coming down with the flu all of a sudden.
In general, our relationship with reading is a strange one. I remember learning to read and almost simultaneously developing an insatiable appetite for books. What a world had opened up in front of me! Nothing was more exciting than receiving the coveted Scholastic Book Club order form and checking off the newest Boxcar Children or Babysitter’s Club book. However, the older I got and the less autonomy I had over my reading selections, the less magical reading felt. That’s not to say I didn’t encounter wonderful books in school–Heart of Darkness comes to mind, which I read in English class and which remains one of my all-time favorite books. But, in general, a very clear shift in my relationship with reading was happening.
Something my mom told me frequently growing up has always stuck with me. She used to say, “The best thing about getting out of school and starting to work is that you can read whatever you want!” That never made sense to me. Leaving the comfortable confines of the classroom and entering the big, scary world seemed daunting to say the least, and I certainly didn’t see myself reading during the brief free time I would have. However, as she always is, my mom was right! The chains were off and the world of reading opened itself up to me again.
These days, for whatever reason, I find myself reading the most during the summer. Perhaps it’s because work is slower, or perhaps it’s the lure of lounging by the pool or lying on the beach with a good book. Or maybe I am making up for all those past summers spent struggling through ancient tomes (looking at you, Sophocles). I’m very glad to have come full circle with reading, specifically summer reading. As we all know, relationships are complicated, but the best ones are certainly worth weathering the ups and downs.
**Since this is all about summer reading, I would be remiss in not including some book recommendations, all of which have occupied my summers along the way:
- From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, by E.L. Konigsburg
- The Devil in the White City, by Erik Larson
- The Glass Castle, by Jeannette Walls
- The Phantom Tollbooth, by Jules Feiffer
- Oedipus Rex, by Sophocles (good luck)
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