Many people never get over their attitude to reading that began in high school. That’s when they developed a difficulty, not to say a BLOCK, about prescribed reading.
“Read this, it’s good for you’” became an instant reason to dislike the recommended article. The book became oatmeal porridge, automatically on the list of proscribed (worse than prescribed) items, to be avoided at all costs. I think that continues into later life. It must account for the behaviour of many of my so-called readers.
People buy my book because they must: they know me, they feel they owe me; they get good brownie points for buying it (help the old girl along and heaven knows, she needs the help.) But buying and reading are not the same thing. One friend years ago said he felt that just buying a book was almost like reading it and so he didn’t have to bother.
CUT OFF by a faded battery…à bientôt.
HERE I AM, a day later, to finish what I started yesterday.
So, what has been happening to my book since I sent it out into the world.? A few people read my book instantly, or almost, considering the gap the holiday season carves into our lives, and I know this because they reported to me. Because t’s such a personal book they tend to respond with very personal reactions, which I love. One neighbour told me how surprised she was to discover my sense of humour. Another likes my travel adventures. Another responded with empathy for the sexual dilemma young widows confront (when I was younger). Another likes my quotations and careful research. But too many have bought it and haven’t read it yet or ever will. One writer friend thinks it is enough for people to buy the book. That’s all one can hope for, he said, a truth to be ruefully acknowledged. I actually gave copies of my book to people I owed thanks to for assistance along the way, and to my family. Even then….
One daughter called the book “great”; the other one said it was ”informative”. I was hoping one or the other would respond to my words about their father. Perhaps they were too close to the bone. My challenged son doesn’t read easily but he likes to own my (relevant) books because he talks about them and lends them to friends. I asked his older brother if he had read my book. “No.” He likes other world trilogies.
So there is my reading public.
Never mind. I have another book brewing.