I should be writing an article about the some orientation for our city’s scholars but I’m posting here instead (I’m a procrastinator but this is not procrastinating, believe me). I just finished reading the final instalment of The Hunger Games trilogy around 3am today hence I’m still attached to the characters and the story. I like reading novels because of the effect it (reading) has on me. It pulls me from where I am creating a semi-permeable—because my little brother habitually interrupts—barrier against the world. When I start reading, I easily get engrossed making me want to know the end as soon as possible. If I don’t finish it within a day (now thinking of it, even if I do finish it) I dream of the scenes and the characters usually talking to me or dragging me to their [mis]adventures.
When the author starts to describe a character, I see him/her in my head. It’s like shifting palettes for the skin color, choosing the eyes, nose, ears, mouth, ears, hair when you’re playing one of those dress up games (like Coco Girl, haha). I realized I can even hear their voices; Katniss Everdeen’s voice is low and has this reserved tone with a hint of gloom, and though it sounds sweet when she’s talking to Prim, it’s not pitchy; I assign some common voice of someone brusque but playful to Gale. Perhaps if anyone would hear them, they would all sound the same (would sound me) but not to me. That’s what I, maybe not loathe but, dislike about novel-based films—I can’t help my self-created-dressed-voiced characters and settings be crushed by images of movie characters—but that doesn’t mean I don’t watch them (haha). I have accepted that the book would, normally, be better than the movie, though but still not settled whether this rule is absolute.
Maybe my way of reading is wrong. Maybe I should read slowly and relish each detail, each word, each scene. Maybe I should take pleasure in each character’s joyous moments and grieve in their pain with reflection time after each chapter. Or maybe I should pause and ask questions or find loopholes in the plot like a book critic/reviewer/whatever will do (no, I don’t know if that’s what they do really). But it just isn’t. I become giddy when I have a new novel to read more so if it’s something I’ve heard good things of. I’m always tempted to look at the end to know how everything’ll turn out. I look at reviews of it on the web or even “spoilers”—which I learn not to be spoiled of. I babble about the part I’m already in over dinner and my little brother never fails to ask questions which I’m more than enthusiastic to answer and babble more. On top of these, when I finish reading, it feels as if I’ve gained new friends and acquaintances in the characters and I miss them. I miss them that I think about what they did in the story as if I was actually with them in all of those—filming them with super cameras able to zoom in and out and catch all the details. And after everything, I’m happy.
That is how I describe my joy in reading.
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