I have always been a bookworm, I remember feeling the excitement flood my body the first time I had access to the schools library. Rows upon, rows of stories that I could throw myself into week after week. It wasn’t often that I would get the same book out after the seven days were up, almost always finishing them days before and waiting impatiently for the next adventure to start.
I remember my mum reading to me when words were still a jumble of indistinguishable letters, taking on the voices of each character so to bring the story to life. Each night there would be at least ten minutes of bargaining, trying to get her to read just one more chapter before I went to sleep.
I still consume books with the same feverous ferocity, I throw myself head first into the stories, immersing myself in the characters lives and keeping my eyes glued to the words until the last page is done. It is then that I sit in my book hangover, mourning the end of another book that I’ve devoured until I’m whisked away by another tale.
I’m not fussy about what I read, I favour fiction over real life stories and I think that is because I’ve always used books as a way to escape and become someone new. The stories I read allow me to become someone braver than I could ever wish to be, they let me slay dragons from my bedroom and complete quests on my way to work. When I read as a child I escaped the bullies at school, as a teenager I buried my angst into the pages of the stories I loved and as an adult I flee the monotony of daily life within the pages of each new story.
Here are some of my current favourite reads, each of them are great for their own reason and each were demolished hungrily which is always the sign of a well enjoyed story for me.