The book as instrument.
I love books. I use both digital and paper, and I love both formats. I appreciate that anyone here reading this also has a deep love for books, but I've never really heard other people's process of how they read - of course, I've never really asked.
A good book - or rather, a book I enjoy reading - will ignite my imagination. There will be some arcane mental process where reading the actual words will be some sort of autonomous process - I will actually forget I'm reading - and have a very clear sensory experience in my head as to what's going on.
To take an example, one of the first books I clearly remember reading was Arthur C Clarke's, 'Rendezvous with Rama' (I'll have to check, but I must have been ... actually, I'll have to check. Some age between 9 and 11. Certainly I had no idea how to pronounce 'Rendezvous'). I can't recall where I got the copy from - most like the local library - but I was swept away with the scope of the novel, fully realising in my head the depth and majesty of the ship better than any visual effects could ever provide me with. I perfectly remember the first time I read it. I was staying and working at a great uncles farm, and I'd finish the day by reading from this book before I slept. It was a wonderful contrast, having a pretty physical day with Victorian country work on a sheep farm, mixed with my flights of imagination that happened before I slept. It's almost a pity I can't remember what I dreamt about at night.
There have been many, many, many other reads where I've looked up from what I'm reading and ejaculated things like, 'Good grief!', 'My giddy aunt!' and 'Amazeballs!'. I have frequently gone cross-eyed when working through the implications of a concept put through with with a good book. I've cried at the end of a book, thanks to the understanding it's granted me. I've cried at the end of a series, because it's a universe I want to hear more from. And all too often, I've mourned the loss of authors, because no more of their ideas will influence me.
A good book - or rather, a book I enjoy reading - will ignite my imagination. There will be some arcane mental process where reading the actual words will be some sort of autonomous process - I will actually forget I'm reading - and have a very clear sensory experience in my head as to what's going on.
To take an example, one of the first books I clearly remember reading was Arthur C Clarke's, 'Rendezvous with Rama' (I'll have to check, but I must have been ... actually, I'll have to check. Some age between 9 and 11. Certainly I had no idea how to pronounce 'Rendezvous'). I can't recall where I got the copy from - most like the local library - but I was swept away with the scope of the novel, fully realising in my head the depth and majesty of the ship better than any visual effects could ever provide me with. I perfectly remember the first time I read it. I was staying and working at a great uncles farm, and I'd finish the day by reading from this book before I slept. It was a wonderful contrast, having a pretty physical day with Victorian country work on a sheep farm, mixed with my flights of imagination that happened before I slept. It's almost a pity I can't remember what I dreamt about at night.
There have been many, many, many other reads where I've looked up from what I'm reading and ejaculated things like, 'Good grief!', 'My giddy aunt!' and 'Amazeballs!'. I have frequently gone cross-eyed when working through the implications of a concept put through with with a good book. I've cried at the end of a book, thanks to the understanding it's granted me. I've cried at the end of a series, because it's a universe I want to hear more from. And all too often, I've mourned the loss of authors, because no more of their ideas will influence me.