I read a survey recently that said most adults never read another book after graduating from high school. Nothing breaks my heart more. I can’t imagine going a single day without picking up a book. My favorite places to be are bookstores and my first job was at a library. I’ve lived my life surrounded by books. I am a believer that those who think reading is boring just haven’t found the right book.

When we pick up a book, we hold a gate into another world, maybe similar to ours or completely different. We enter these cities, forests, kingdoms, planets. We are new and unsure, groping around for something that makes sense. We carefully pick our way through the first few pages, learning the rules we have to play by in this new world. Then, we catch on and we are running full tilt through the story, learning to care about the characters. We laugh with them, cry with them, stare in wonder at this new world they guide us through. We learn to be brave, running with the hero as they pull us along on their adventure. We find our place in this false kingdom.

Then we have to close the book as the story comes to an end. We will miss the sounds, sights, and friends from our journey. But the stories we love never leave us. No matter how old we get, how far we stray, when we open that book again we slip into the familiar rhythm and rules of the world. Familiar landscapes unfurl around us, friends beckoning from the pages, ready for another adventure.

So how can you say reading is boring? How can anything that transports you through time and space and allows you to be the hero of the story possibly be boring? I just don’t get it.