I don’t remember a time when I didn’t love to read. My mother says I taught myself to read when I was around 4. She said it was like flipping a switch. I woke up one morning and suddenly I could read. From then on I always had my nose in a book, and woe betide the person who tried to interrupt me.

But you know what happens. You get to be in your forties. You have kids. You have a job. You have aging parents. A dog that needs walking. Permission slips to sign. Errands to run. Teenagers to chauffer. Meals to cook. Emails to send, phone calls to return, bills to pay . . . At day’s end you are exhausted. Too exhausted to read. Like it or not, your inner bookworm is in danger of suffocating.

I named this blog Lost in Books because I want to be lost in books again. One a week — I hope I can do that! The days when I read one a day, or more than one a day, probably won’t come back for a long time if ever. But one a week. I can do that. Let my inner bookworm breathe again, and see the light!


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