The other day I had a typical reading day. In the morning and afternoon I read some of a Dickens biography. I also received word that I’ll be reviewing a Library of America edition of David Goodis novels for the Philadelphia Inquirer. At night I took notes on Pride and Prejudice to teach it the following day. Then I read some Dickens. Then read I began reading Anne Rice’s new novel, The Wolf Gift, because I’m interviewing her onstage for her event at the Free Library of Phila on Valentine’s Day. That is an awesome reading life (and maybe one day it will be enough to pay the bills). A day jam packed with book adventures and adventures to come.
But the best part of this reading day was taking my seven year old daughter, Lulu, to the dentist. As soon as we got in the car for the drive, she asked, “Can I read my book to you?” She read a page or so then told me that she just wanted to read to herself. When we arrived at the dentist’s office, she got out of the car, walked across the parking lot, down the steps and into the waiting room, all while continuing to read her book. All of my satisfying reading endeavours of the day (Dickens, book reviews, novels, author interviews) melt away when I remember that one image of my seven year old daughter unable to put a book down as she walked into the dentist's office. If I never make another dollar reading/reviewing/writing, I’ll at least know I’ve helped make another reader in this world.