So, as I was sitting here writing my first book review, it occurred to me that almost none of you know who I am. And if you don’t know who I am, how can you trust any of what I say or any of my recommendations?
You can already tell that I enjoy literature since this blog is in the “Book Review” section of this website, but that doesn’t describe the extent of the word “enjoy.” I REALLY like books. It’s gotten to the point where some of my friends have even referred to my slight obsession as “creepy” and “weird.”
My slight obsession with books is half inherited – thanks, Mom – and half thanks to Hooked on Phonics (not sponsored). My mom has always been an avid reader and since I was raised as an only child, I had a lot of free time. When I found out that books are essentially movies inside your head with characters and scenery that you imagine, I instantly fell in love. As I grew, so did my love for stories. Unfortunately for my social life, there has always been a direct positive correlation between the amount of books I devour and my general dislike for “real” people. It’s never been that I associated with bad people, it’s just that the people I was associating with were and are severely less interesting than the ones in my books. I guess, looking back, that’s not entirely fair. I assumed that “real” people weren’t as interesting as the giants in the B.F.G. or Max in Where the Wild Things Are or anyone in any of Shel Silverstein’s poems. I’ve just always had such extravagant and incredible adventures with the characters in the stories that I had no desire to attempt “regular” adventures with “real” people.
Now, this doesn’t mean I was a complete shut in: I had friends, I still do. But even now I find more comfort in physical copies of books than I ever have with any of my friends. Note: this doesn’t mean I don’t use e-books or audiobooks. I do, just not as much as physical books.
Yes, you guessed it. I was that weird girl in class who always got in trouble for reading and who always had a suitcase packed with books to bring to sleepovers at friends’ houses. But books, to me, are far more than just words on paper. Let me explain.
I had a few dark times in my life like I’m sure most of you have. The hardest one to deal with was the time I spent in the military. Now, before anyone gets all huffy and puffy, I met amazing people in the military and I also had some great experiences while I was in, but for the most part, it was less than easy for me. Being a Marine is no easy task to begin with, but being a female Marine is far more difficult than anyone lets on. I knew going into it that I was going to be a small fish in a big pond: “just a little girl in a big boy’s game” – direct quote from one of my superiors. To say that the people in charge of me didn’t like me would be the understatement of the century and, in short, they did everything in their power to make my life a living hell. Considering the amount of power they had, you can only imagine what that was like.
This was also the first time in my life that I was away from my family: I enlisted when I was seventeen and I am very close to my family. I’m sure that the combination of being away from my family and hating waking up every morning made the slope even more slippery. I had sank to a very dark place and it horrified me. The only reason I’m still alive today is a small handful of people that I was stationed with – you guys know who you are, thank you – and being able to disappear into my books. Being able to be literally anybody else but me was my form of therapy. It escalated from needing to get lost in the stories to feel comfort to just being near or touching a book. The feel of the pages and the smell of the books instantly calmed the mess inside of my head.
Now that I’m out, I’ve gotten the help that I desperately needed, but physical books are still a crutch for me. I always need to have one near me just in case. I even have one in my bed with me every night. I totally understand that this isn’t “normal” for females my age to have this obsession, but my therapist told me that since it was my comfort for so long and it’s not an unhealthy habit, I didn’t have to stop doing it. Some of you may still think that I should stop and that needing the comfort of any object is unhealthy, but hey, I could have been stuck with a heroin or crack cocaine addiction. I’ll take a book addiction any day.
Anyway, now that that’s all out of the way, I can get into the more important factors: the types of books/authors that I enjoy. I am a gargantuan – this happens to be my favorite word – horror and suspense lover: think King, Koontz, Lovecraft, Poe, Stine. I’m also very partial to crime novels: think Child, Cornwell, Slaughter, Patterson. And even though I’m borderline no longer young, I frequent young adult novels: think Rowling, Riggs, Tolkien, Dashner, Green, Yancey. I almost never read non-fiction – although sometimes I’ll pick up a self help book or book about serial killers – or romance novels. The only way I’ll suffer through a romance novel is if somebody I care about recommends it to me extremely highly or they tell me it’s their favorite books. You can learn almost everything important about a person by delving into their favorite book.
This blog is going to be mainly centered around book reviews and book unboxing reviews: more to come on the latter later. I will pepper in more personal stories that I believe are relevant to the novels I’m reviewing, but they won’t be very often. I’ve also never had a platform like this before and I’m both enjoying and panicking about being able to discuss the things I’ve not told anyone else before. I’m not giving my friends or family access to my blog yet, I’m not ready for them to know this much about me, but I’m looking forward to meeting and conversing with you.
If you’ve made it this far, I applaud your determination and I hope that you stick around.
And as always, I love you, you should love you, and I’ll talk to you next time.