Beginnings

When I start a new book, it's like making a new friend. At first I feel kind of tentative and don't know what to expect. Will I even like this particular book? Is it worth reading? Sometimes I decide it isn't, and don't finish it, or even get very far before stopping and returning the book to the shelf. Other times, I'm rewarded by a wonderful and new experience as I continue to read. As with a new friend, I seek common ground: do I feel the same way as the author? Do I see things the same way? Or is this writer so unlike me that I find him or her interesting for that very reason (and wish to continue the relationship)? It is exciting to start a new book, although I also feel a bit of sadness to be finished with the old one at the same time. Sometimes, I may not really feel like starting another book right away, but want to think about, linger, languish, for awhile longer before moving on. Because reading a book at a certain time in my life also marks time in a unique way. The books I read today are the memories of tomorrow. Of course, the beautiful part is that I can always read them again.

I just started Michael J. Fox's autobiography, Lucky Man. I have not read much of it yet--just a few pages I've managed to squeeze in to my schedule--but hope that it will win my attention like a promising new friend. So far, so good.