One of the items on my 2011 uberlist (Rather than make New Year's resolutions, I make to-do lists for the upcoming year.) is to read at least one book per month. In the past, before the full-time job and the kiddo, I read much more often than I do now. I tried to keep track last year of the books I read during 2010, and I quit listing them after awhile, but I remember thinking in January that I probably read about 30 books a year. At the end of 2010, though, I'm pretty sure I had read less than 12. Crazy, crazy.
I read ALL the time; it's just that a lot of the reading I do is for my classes, brushing up on short fiction or plays, or poetry, most of which I've read numerous times before and probably taught before as well. And if my attention isn't focused elsewhere, I'll basically read anything around me: billboards, newspapers, magazines, receipts, bumper stickers, random scraps of paper lying around. If I spy words somewhere, I have to know what they say. That's just me. I can't not answer a ringing telephone, and I can't not read any text within my sight. I'm curious. Or, just nosy. But we'll go with curious.
For awhile now, Steven has tried to convince me to read Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game. He even bought me a copy. Science fiction is a genre that holds little interest for me, I must admit. So I wasn't at all convinced that I would like this book, even though more than one of my friends assured me of its fabulousness.
But...I finally picked it up on a whim a few days ago, and I'm cruising right through it. It's an interesting read. I'm really enjoying it thus far. I'm anxious to see how it turns out. Nobody tell me!