Still, Still!, Reading that Memoir

I used to be a big reader. And by "big," I mean lots, loads, oodles, gobs of input.

In undergrad, por ejemplo, I'd read a book a day. In grad school, I wasn't so much with the novels, but I'd easily clear that many pages, and more and sometimes in Spanish, French, and Italian. (And sometimes, drunk! Gotta multitask, my people.)

After I left the hallowed halls, what, five years ago?, I kind of left the bookshelves behind. Sure, I've read my share of Harry Potter and a smattering of True Literature (I could count 'em with my ten fingers and wouldn't even have to borrow the toes). Not quite the literary intensity of clearing the opus of Umberto Eco in 15 weeks. And then writing a thesis on it. (Did I just go elitist and cocky? I may have.) My reading has gone light--both in quality and quantity. (Yes, I did just imply that Harry Potter may not be quality reading material. Fun, yes. Literary, no.)

Now, if you're used to my writing style, you're probably waiting for the: "Until now." And then a line or maybe a graf about the literary revelation I had last night. How I read Moby Dick and Ulysses in one night and then submitted an article to Parenting magazine that compares both to my recent survival of toddlerhood.

You standing on that rug? Let me just pull that out from under you.

Nope, no such epiphany today. No, last night I read more of Eat, Pray, Love (yes! still!) and decided I wasn't going to let my academic past haunt my good-time present. As I was chomping at a memoir (that word would usually be delivered with a heaping cup of snark) and wishing I had some bon bons to munch along with it, I realized I wasn't so much missing the bon mots. I was Reading for Pleasure. Not to write about it or to teach it or to be one book closer to being "Well Read" or really for information. But for Pure Pleasure, for this thing called Personal Enlightenment.

And I realized, I likey! And, with Elizabeth Gilbert's help, I also realized that I don't have to feel guilty or apologize for who I am today, for what I read or what I enjoy, or for where I find my wisdom.

(Although an article about the Dick, Ulysses and the two-year old sounds intriguing. Don't steal it.)