Pixie Dust

Let me begin with this: Reading is Magical.

Lately I have been closed off from books that have not been assigned to me in class. As a near graduate, I have read so many scholarly books and articles in the past six months that I not only feel smart… I can brag about how smart I am. Just kidding. While these are exciting and usually interesting things to read (because I am a huge nerd who loves school and her major), it is a different type of reading.

I decided post-wedding that I wanted to take up reading for fun… again. It had been far too long since I curled up with a book, a cup of tea, and a soft blanket. I wanted to choose a book that would be more than good for this experience. I wanted to choose something that I had been wanting to read and something that had been recommended to me.(Side note: I LOVE when I can discuss books with friends!). I ended up choosing The Book Thief by Markus Zusak because I have always loved learning and reading about the Holocaust (who can forget Number the Stars or Night), and a good friend had recommended it to me and assured me that I would not be disappointed. She also told me it was going to be a movie, which I don’t care about (and will probably never see because there is no way it can be as good as this book). (Second Note: There will be no spoilers about the Book from this point forward… for those of you who were worried that I was a book ruiner).

THIS WAS THE BEST CHOICE OF BOOK EVER.I fell in love with every detail. It struck every heart string and pulled every emotional tear from my rather large tear ducts. The book is narrated by Death (an absolutely BRILLIANT move by the author, who pulls the voice of Death in a direction that is wonderfully dreary). I was encompassed by the walls of words that made me feel so connected and involved in the story. It is a story that I would recommend to anyone.

“But wait,” you say, “Why did you love it so much if you are trying to be joyful and positive?” Good question. Here is my answer: This book was a GOOD book. It is literature and it is art. It is life. This book, and several more, are what make reading so enjoyable, even if it is about one of the most depressing events to ever happen in human history.

Reading it was magical. And I can’t want to continue this hobby.



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