I’m still slogging my way through “Stone Mattress.” I want so much to enjoy this book as almost all the reviews have been positive. Most of the stories are interlinked with one another, the characters overlap and give a different perspective. The writing is well done – I just can’t connect.
That connection with a book or a story is the core of my love of reading. I was an only child until I was 13, and lived quite a distance from my friends so it was up to me to entertain myself. TV was limited in my house but books were not. Reading was encouraged. One of my greatest memories of growing up is going to the library every Saturday morning with my father. We would each get stacks of books and we brought a loaf of bread to feed the ducks that lived there at the library pond.
Reading was my escape. Books would take me anywhere in the world I wanted to go, and I could do anything or be anyone I wanted to be. Heady stuff for a little girl who liked to daydream. Both of my parents are big readers and the house I grew up in had a “library” – a small nook with floor to ceiling books and a big, comfortable chair.
Losing myself in a book is such a great pleasure and a gift. It’s my way of turning off the world for a little while, forgetting my responsibilities and going on an adventure.