Who is this masked man?

I'm sitting in bed right now, breaking one of my cardinal rules and typing on the computer. I'm a firm believer that bedrooms are for sleeping and that other thing and that's all. I've never been the type of person to haul televisions and computers into my bedroom for entertainment or, god forbid, work. But tonight I was willing to make an exception. Because tonight, my husband is reading a book.

Anyone who knows me knows that my favorite way to pass the time is by reading. Magazines, newspapers, books, electronics manuals, milk cartons - I read them all. If I'm sitting still for more than a few seconds, I feel like I need to be reading something. Chalk it up to the fact that my mother is a librarian if you will, but she only got that job because we spent so much time at the local library that they finally hired her. We are a family of readers. When I was growing up, Mom always made sure there was a pile of books next to our beds, by the couch, at the kitchen table, etc. We didn't have cable or anything like it and we didn't have any video game systems or games for our computer (Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing doesn't count) so reading was the only indoor leisure activity we had.

As an adult, I've gone through phases of reading more and less. The more I work, the less I read and vice versa. I always hated being really engulfed in school work because I couldn't do any recreational reading. Graduate school was especially tough because I was working full time and going to school and it was all I could do to finish my assigned reading, much less keep up with who Kate Hudson was dating or catch the latest Jodi Picoult release. I celebrated graduation as much for the freedom to choose what I read as the degree I had.

I've always used reading as an escape, as well. Reading about places was the closest I got to them as a poor farm kid growing up, and allowed me to have intelligent conversations when I was older. I may not have been to the south of France until I was in my twenties, but I could tell you all about it from the time I was 12 or 13. It was almost as good in person as it was in my head. I have a vivid imagination, inspired by years of reading and allowing my brain to create all the people and places I read about. And writing, of course, was a natural progression of my love of words.

None of my significant others have been big readers, though. I guess that's the old opposites attract thing, or it's just an symptom of my generation's reliance on electronics for communication, entertainment, education, etc. I've had boyfriends who enjoyed reading, but none as much as I. And Tony has never been a reader. He always tosses magazine articles or books at me that he's interested in and asks for the "executive summary." He even tried that with the articles our marriage counselor gave us two weeks ago. (No such luck. In fact, neither of us read it, which made the next session a little awkward.)

However, on his trip to Atlanta this week, he found a book he is really enjoying and has been reading pretty much non-stop since. He actually ditched a phone call with me in order to read, which is the only acceptable reason to ditch a phone call in my mind. And tonight after dinner, we didn't turn the TV on at all. Instead, he read his book and I plowed through several magazines that had arrived while I was gone. It was heaven - silent, peaceful and restful. No blaring TV, no loud music. The dog was even quiet. He wasn't reading anything, but he was napping quietly.

Even now, after having read for a few hours earlier, he's sitting happily beside me, reading while I type and wait for the laundry to finish up so I can put it in the dryer. (Something about Tony needing to wear pants tomorrow. Silly office dress codes.)

I asked him why the sudden change - who was this intellectual who took over my husband's body and suddenly became such a fan of reading? His response was the same as everyone I've ever met who said they didn't like reading and suddenly couldn't put a book down - he finally found a book he liked.

The problem is that most people never read for pleasure. They read for school or work, they read because it is expected of them, but they never explore the wide world of writing that exists. Someone may hate reading Ayn Rand for school and therefore think all authors write like Rand. Nothing could be further from the truth. For every Jane Austen, there is a Michael Crichton. For every Walt Whitman, there is an e. e. cummings. People of all ages, backgrounds, styles and interests write books every day. The problem is that most people are never exposed to them.

It makes me sad that so many people go through life thinking they hate to read because they've never connected with an author or subject matter. For me, reading is like trying on clothes. Not everything fits or works with my personal style. I get into the library and start shopping. I'll pull a lot of books off the shelf and read the dust jacket. If that catches me, I'll take it home and try reading a few chapters. If I'm still hooked, I'll keep reading. But if the dust jacket doesn't compel me, I'll put it back. And sometimes, I'll get it all the way home and start reading and realize this particular book just doesn't fit. So, I return it to the library on my next trip and try something else. When I find an author I like, I'll usually read all his or her work, just like with clothing designers. And when I find an author I dislike, I know to avoid him in the future.

And that highlights another problem so many people have with books. They can be expensive. Tony is a book buyer. The book he is reading now he bought at the airport. He likes to own books, to have a library to browse at home. I, on the other hand, like to borrow books. I want to read so much that it would bankrupt me to buy everything I read and I tend to never re-read a book - how can you, with so many other books to read? Instead, I borrow my books from the library, for free, and get to read as much as I want. However, I will admit to being spoiled from the days of living with my librarian mom. It was nice to have my own personal book-selector in the house. She would bring home piles of books and I'd just pick the ones I liked and ignore the rest. It got to the point where she would know pretty accurately who I would like to read and who I wouldn't. She still emails and calls all the time with authors and book names she thinks I'd like. It's a pretty awesome advantage to have in the library.

I'm tired now and I'd like to go to sleep, but I've gotta say that looking at my husband in the light of the table lamp, slowly turning the pages of his novel, is a pretty sexy thing. Maybe I'll stay up a little longer.