Maintaining My Love of Reading

Reading has always been my lifeline. It's the one consistent thing in my life that has keep me mentally grounded. Retreating into books and away from the insanity and stress of other people has been my therapy.

I've been around a long time, and I've had my enthusiasm wax and wane. At one point in the very early eighties I was in danger of stopping altogether. I had gotten sick of science fiction, but I still had the snobbish SF fan's contempt for horror. I was partying a lot and hanging out with friends.

I didn't stop, and thanks to Charles L. Grant and Stephen King I entered the most intense and life-defining experiences of my life. I discovered the worlds of horror fiction in my mid-twenties and that jump-started my passion for reading.

I slowed way down when I got my first VCR. Home video dominated my life for at least twenty years. I never stopped reading, of course, but it took a back seat to movies.

Many readers are antisocial people. Social situations steal your reading time away, and many people seem to be offended by it. Like they can't understand why someone would rather sit alone with a book instead of spending time bitching about politics or engaging in meaningless small talk.

I've met a lot of former readers. When I ask if they still read, the prevalent answer is that they no longer have time. Then ask them about the latest superhero movie or Netflix content and they will engage in passionate discourse.

Throughout the decades there have been periods when I've had trouble reading. I'll look at the shelves and nothing seems interesting. Letting my brain go numb seems easier than focusing on a book.

I always bounce right back, eager to read again.

Why is it so important? There are numerous reasons.

Reading is good for the brain. Like any muscle the brain can become atrophied with disuse.

Reading can improve a person in other ways. I know reading authors like Bill Pronzini, Robert McCammon, Robert A. Heinlein, Harlan Ellison, Robert Cormier, and a host of others has helped instill a strong moral code in me.

Reading improves the thought process, idea stimulation, and conversation skills.

I've urged young readers to hold on to their passion for books with all their might. Readers are, in my opinion and from my experience, better people.

Sure, I've known some real jerks who read. In fact, some of the things I see published in the horror genre do not appear to be beneficial in any way. In this current environment there are far more bad books out there than good ones.

I sometimes grow depressed. I think back to all the money I've spent on books. Not to mention movies and music. My day job is literally killing me, both physically and spiritually. I could retire now on what I've blown on this stuff.

I look at all these books around me. I think, what the hell am I doing? Like I'm going to read all these damned books again in my life? There are plenty I've never read, and some I almost certainly never will read.

Has my whole life been a waste?

It's natural to get these thoughts. If there's really a Devil, it lives in our self-doubts. It tries to kill the things we love.

These kind of thoughts usually don't last very long. I think back to all the joy and magic books have brought me. From the days of my youth when I thrilled to my very soul along with Doc Savage and his amazing five aides. I remember traversing the galaxy with Kip Russell in Have Space Suit--Will Travel. I think back to the interstellar awe with Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, and a hundred other Science Fiction writers. I cried my eyes out when I was a little boy as I read Harlan Ellison's "Jefty is Five".

Later I felt a delicious chill up my spine as I read about Oxrun Station, courtesy of Charles L. Grant. I felt like I made a best friend when I began reading Stephen King. Peter Straub stimulated my intellect as he froze my soul.

Robert McCammon has touched my heart deeper than any other writer. I visited the most exotic places on Earth with Paul Theroux. I spent decades inside the mind and life of a humane detective with Bill Pronzini and his Nameless Detective stories. I vicariously kicked ass with Repairman Jack and Hap and Leonard. Shirley Jackson made me believe, if only for a little while, in ghosts.

I contemplate these things and I get excited about reading all over again. I've got a lot to look forward to.

Everyone else is reading Richard Chizmar and Stephen King's Gwendy's Final Task. I've had the book for a couple of weeks, but I'm holding off. My wife is going out of town soon, and I'll be lonely when she is gone. The Gwendy stories are filled with magic, and I'll need it.

A new F. Paul Wilson book is coming this week. Stephen King has another big fat book coming later this year. A new favorite, Catriona Ward, has one coming very soon. Dan Chaon has written some of the best books I have ever read, and his latest is on the way. A Hap and Leonard collection is forthcoming from Joe R. Lansdale.

Books from new and old favorites. Grady Hendrix. Don Winslow. John Waters. Ronald Malfi. Paul Theroux. David Bell. Jason Rekulak. Adam Cesare. John Irving!

Plus there are books from new authors coming up I am interested in. Some I will like. Some I won't. The fun will be in finding out.

I look at my shelves and I consider all the wonders and terrors books have brought me. I see the boxes of books I plan to sell at conventions, and I think about how satisfying it is to share my love with others. A thousand stories percolate in my brain.

My love of books and reading is like any other relationship. I've had to work to keep it alive. I routinely have to make financial investments in it. I also get returns from my books, as I am now a part time bookseller. It's easy to walk away from a relationship, and the idea of freedom can appear to be attractive, but I want to grow old with my love of literature.

Written by Mark Sieber