A book or two…

The awakening.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Someone once asked me when I fell in love with reading, and my mind went blank as I tried to pinpoint the exact year – but I couldn’t. Here’s why:

I grew up in a house filled with books (not much of an exaggeration). My mum loved reading when she was younger and kept a bookshelf stacked with many classic novels like Macbeth, Great Expectations, Oliver Twist, Tess of the d’Urbervilles, Things Fall Apart, and many others. Although, I found it difficult to read those books at the time because of the old-fashioned English, she had another shelf for primary school novels. Whenever anyone of us looked bored around her, she would say, “Go and read one novel.”

Most of the time, she would tell us stories about the books she’d read, especially Great Expectations (she liked talking about Miss Havisham), Oliver Twist (“I want some more”), Macbeth (the three witches) and Things Fall Apart (Okonkwo and his egoistic behaviour). I found these stories interesting, but they didn’t kill my fear of big books, so I remained stuck with the primary school books.

My elder sister, who always let curiosity win every battle, moved beyond primary books and started classics, filling my ears with stories along the way.

In secondary school, I heard about “Brown books.” They said they were about two-three hundred pages long and had contemporary English with engaging plots – but how could I get one? Thus began my search.

But in the absence of Brown books, someone introduced me to Nani Boi’s books and I felt like I’d made it. I borrowed every copy I could find and devoured them. They made me feel like a young adult, partly because the covers were quite different from the ones I was used to.

But soon I finished all his books I could find, and I was left with my elusive search for “Brown books”. Finally, my cousin brought over three copies of our so-called Brown books, and from that moment on, I knew that I’d never stop reading.

The first brown books I read was Emily and the Stranger. I still have the copy. It was so different – the shape of the book, the color (brown indeed)… it was my first romance novel. Side note: I could not understand some of the romantic parts (don’t tell anyone).

After that, I started The Other Boleyn Girl. It was too long for me (six hundred-plus pages), but I slowly finished it because I was curious about Mary Boleyn and King Henry. Then, I read John Grisham’s A Time to Kill, and OMG – my mind was blown! Pleaseeee, I wanted to solve murder cases!

After those books, I knew I couldn’t go back to primary school novels, but I still couldn’t read classical ones. So, I kept disturbing my mother to buy new books for me, she bought me The Blinkards, The Thing Around Your Neck, and others. Many of my friends even lent me books, saying they found it strange that I loved reading when there were other fun things to do.

By SS2, when it was time to pick our area of specialization, I knew (is it funny that I even saw it in a dream? Lol!) that it would have something to do with Literature. Slowly, I got more acquainted with African Literature. I read Amma Darko’s Faceless and sat there wondering how life could be so cruel, yet blown away by the writer’s prowess with words. I read Efua Sutherland’s The Marriage of Anansewa and couldn’t hold down my laughter at the trickiness of Ananse,  which reminds me so much of tortoise tales. But no book shocked me like Native Son – that chopping scene… Oh God!

It was when I entered university that all my mum’s stories started to make more sense to me. Reading 19^th Century English novels, I could picture her voice and it made it all easier.

Okayyyy, that’s a long tale to answer such a short question, but I don’t think there was ever a time I disliked reading. It has always been a source of happiness and an escape from reality. Reading has let me experience life though other people’s tale and lifestyles in books. I have lived a thousand lives, all through the pages of book. One day, I might see life through the eyes of a housemaid (Freida McFadden’s The Housemaid series); another, I become the wife of an uncaring man (Aiwanose Odafen’s Tomorrow I become a Woman); the next, I am chasing dragons in a fantasy world (Rebecca Yarros’ Fourth Wing). There are so many books and so many lives to experience – all from the comfort of my home.

So if anyone asks me again when I fell in love with reading, I’ll smile and tell them it wasn’t a single moment. It was a collection of all these moments, a lifetime of turning pages, of growing up with characters and learning from them, of resonating with them by finding pieces of myself in their worlds. Reading isn’t just something I love; it has helped me understand people’s struggles and appreciate cultural diversity. My love for writing stems from my reading experiences, which have nurtured my creativity and allowed me to express myself through writing in ways my introversion often prevents. Reading is and will always be a part of who I am, serving as my source of strength.