Why I read?

A few days ago as Phil and I was chatting on Skype, all of a sudden Phil asked me if I have read a book he left me on his visit last June – The Confession of an Economic Hit Man - and I was like startled at the sudden change of topic and honestly said no, and asked if he left it with me. Enough said that he wasn’t very happy with me.

But what can I say, I have serious shortcoming in my reading materials, anyone who knows me knows I read voraciously, I am never without a book in my hand, I even read as I push my shopping cart from aisle to aisle. And sadly enough it is a source of wonder to Malaysian at large that I read, illustrated by a nurse fascination that I am always reading when it is my turn to sit with mom, as she was peeping at my book title she was curiously asking why I read so much, and trying to be polite and cut the explanation short, I just said I am an English teacher, lol, what a mistake, because she spend the next 15 minutes expressing her shock and asking me whether I am old enough to teach others, I think she thought I have just finished my SPM or something. Hmm imagine that to be 18 again, lol. I guess it was lucky I did not tell her, I am old enough to teach others how to teach, lol, I think that would have given her a heart attack. Ooh I am getting sidetracked, you guys don’t need to hear, how often I am thought to be younger than I am, flattering as that may be, hehehe, what I wanted to write today is why I am kind of limited in my reading material and how those I love, namely Phil and Dad, are trying to change that, and of course why I read at all.

Compared to kids today who are enrolled in a Smart Reader program as young 3-4 years old, I was 6 years old when I started reading when I was enrolled officially in the kindergarten. I have always wanted to go to school, I don’t know exactly how old my obsession with schooling started, but Mom told me as soon as I can talk, I can identify a school building and excitedly call out “Toyah”, my childish version of the pronunciation of sekolah (malay for school). It wasn’t long before I was harassing my parents for school uniform and of course to be enrolled in school. Back then it was quite hard, there were no pre-school programs available for three years old, kids start kindergarten at age 6 and that was it, especially in the rural areas. But I can be very ruthless when I want something, so my parents somehow would find sympathetic Tadika KEMAS teachers who would let me sit in for a day or two, which would satisfy me for a while. So the year I can officially go to kindergarten and wear the uniform and be there for the whole day at school, five days a week, you can imagine, how excited I was and explain the speed of how I went from learning ABC to spelling words out and by the end of the month mouthing aloud a full sentence.

Of course I couldn’t put the speed down just to my enthusiasm, I was always surrounded by books, my parents were always reading and they look like they were having fun when they read, they don’t exactly read aloud to me, I don’t remember that, but both mom and dad would tell me fascinating stuffs and stories and it was obvious they get that from the countless of books and reading materials they read from. I was frustrated I could not access all of these whenever I want to, Mom is almost always busy with housework and Dad often travelled for work, so this is also a factor that made me want to read. Funnily enough the first time I read aloud a whole sentence (hmm, not a whole sentence if I recall correctly, actually a long title of a novel) it was a non-event, Mom was ironing, and ironing was not her favourite thing to do, I excitedly took a novel and read aloud the long title without spelling out or stumbling on it, hoping for a standing ovation from Mom, no less, and all Mom said “Okay, Along that’s enough go and have your bath.” (Or something to that effect, lol, I can’t recall her exact words, but I remember her waving it aside, like it was something that happened all the time.)

Despite the fact that my ability to read did not impress Mom, I wasn’t put off from reading, the words on the pages, the stories it could tell, the places it could bring me, fascinated me. From that moment my love affair with the written words begun and I haven’t fell out of love with it yet or ever will I think. We moved around a lot and I changed school a lot and I was a shy girl, but as long as the school have a library decent or not I was never lonely, the books were my friends. When I was young I read everything, anything I can lay my hands on I read, of course Mom introduced me to children’s classics – abridged versions and originals, Enid Blyton, Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys. I remember one year near the end of the school year, I was kind of upset because I have borrowed almost every single book in the school library and thinking what can I read next year? So when we moved yet again all I could think was a brand new school library to explore.

Of course Dad made sure I was provided with all the reading materials I need, he wondered all around KL looking for book sales and contacted friends like uncle Johan who was working as an editor in DBP then, who would give dad a whole box of misprinted copy of novels published by DBP, so I would be happy for about two weeks, devouring 2 or 3 novels a day. And when I was about nine I started stealing a read from Mom’s collection of Mills and Boons, which she thought was too adult for me, but as usual my stubbornness wins, and Mom lets me read it with a reminder to come to her if I am curious about anything, lol. I guess that started me on the road to reading romance novel, as I turned 13 I discovered Sweet Dreams series, and I found them more appealing to my teen self, and I guess Mom was relieved enough I let her M&B collection alone that she’ll let me buy as many Sweet Dreams books I want. But of course I was still supplementing my readings with library books, and biography of famous inventors and scientist was a favourite.

I think the depression I suffered right before SRP, started my limited choice of reading materials, Dad from personal experience and from looking after Mom with her schizophrenia was very reluctant to send me to be treated by psychiatrist here, so he decided to guide me himself through my first depression. What he did was, talking to me a lot and brought me on a visiting tour of our favourite places in Malaysia and supplied me with a lot of light reading materials, especially my favourite romance writers, I found that escaping into this fantasy happy-ever-after world helps calm my troubled soul and it help me manage my emotional turmoil. So in effect Dad found the perfect drug for me, addictive but not destructive, and it does not dull my mind or my reflexes or make so sleepy I can’t go to school, and from that moment on, books more specifically junk books, become a need, like the air that I breathe or the food that I eat. The only side-effect to Dad’s dismay is that I seem to be limiting my scope; I stick to books I can escape with and stopped reading non-fiction unless it is for school. The reason for that is mainly non-fiction tend to make me think and what I need from books was to stop me thinking, because when I start thinking too much, I get depress easily and I don’t like being depress, so I avoid non-fiction unless it is a feel good story etc.

So there I was faced with an upset boyfriend, wondering why I would be so nonchalant or uncaring about a book in which the subject he is passionate about and a book he made a point of reading quickly so he could leave it for me to read and talk about it with him, at lost to explain the reasons why. I apologized to him of course and promised him I would read it, and I did and the book was interesting and opened my eyes to a lot of things, but I kept thinking how to explain why I read the way I read. (If that make sense, lol). So there, Phil, Hun, this is my long overdue explanation, and it actually was fun writing it, lol, gave me a break from crying while writing. :)