Books Are Our Friends

One of the first lessons I remember learning from my mom is that "books are our friends". At the time, I'm sure she was making reference to some destructive behaviour being exacted on the poor paper pages or delicate binding of some of my earliest collections (As in: "Jordana, books are our friends and we do not hurt our friends."). However, throughout my childhood, it mean so much more.

I guess at some point very early on, I took that statement to heart. Books really did become my friends. Throughout my childhood, regardless of whatever trials I was enduring (family or social), I knew I could always escape in the pages of a book. We had slumber parties, rainy day playtimes, lazy sunny days in the park, and afternoons of solitude, hiding out in a closet.

In high school, I was always "that" girl who was excited for summer reading and the new book for English class. I was so proud when I was awarded a Literature award (as selected by teachers) my senior year, and, therefore, elected as a nominee for the same award on the County level. (I didn't win.) I even wrote my personal statement for college  about my love for reading. (I'm pretty sure it had the same title as this blog post. I will have to dig that up someday...)

So, I had a complete "DUH!" moment recently when I was sent an ARC of an upcoming book from a best-selling author through the Goodreads "First Reads" program. How many books do I devour every year/month/week?! Why am I simply giving a "star rating" on Goodreads and moving on? I should be voicing my thoughts on these experiences, characters, stories, worlds. Like I said- DUH!

That said, dear readers, you can expect some regular book reviews here from now on.

Get excited!


TTFN,

MamaKujo


P.S. Don't worry- I will warn of any "spoiler alerts" as needed.

P.P.S. DUH!