Reading. It was one of my least favorite activites in school. Well, reading for class, that is. It was rare that an assigned book appealed to me. I think it's partly due to my ornery nature - not liking having to read something I didn't pick on a schedule I didn't make - but mostly due to my immaturity at the time. I've come to the conclusion that many of the books assigned in English class (at least in advanced level, yes I was in advanced level English) are a waste of time for most people at that age. It is only now in my late 20s that I appreciate fine literature. Back then I'd rather have read pulp sci-fi, and often did, at the cost of my grade point average.
And now I find myself gravitated towards well-written, challenging works of literature, often the very same books that were mandated in school. On top of that, I've been compelled at times to read something twice in a row, a suggestion made by English teachers - but who did that?
Istanbul: Memories and the City
A Game of Thrones
The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana
The Maine Woods
The Name of the Rose
Shadows of the Pomegranate Tree
War and Peace
The Island of the Day Before