I woke up wanting to (re)read books by my author.
Emphasis on my.
MY.
The books that landed into my life 'coincidentally'.
I think a milestone regarding reading was going into the bookshop at juuuuust-before-11 and browsing around for my birthday gift. I finally settled on Braithwaite's and Rowling's second(before the craze, also.. happened to not notice it was the second in the series. Hah.)
I'd remember voluntarily reading for pleasure since I was about 8 but it was at this time that I devoured Rowling's book whole in the span of probably a day and a half. I insisted on dragging Mum back (Thanks Mum!) the next day to buy the first and third book in the series (the only ones published at the time) and managed to consume them on a train ride to the Grandparents (heart heart heart)
So started the strong association of any-cash-given=must-buy-books. Which also meant I had zero interest in spending that dough anywhere else or on anything else.
I also started browsing through this one particular bookshop because it was closest to then-home and getting to know the people. They started figuring out my preferences and one day recommended this new series that had just been purchased. I read one, and the next day came back for the other three in the series.
A person I know through academics has called them 'simplistic feminist tales' but this person was a boy and has no clue what reading such 'simple' feminist tales can do the imagination of a young girl searching haphazardly for an idealism that would echo inside. It seized me.
I felt changed with it.
I felt inspired because of it.
I was charged.
Its love has propelled me into multiple degrees and pushed me to want to research the genre.
When I went back eventually to get More by the author, the staff informed me embarrassed that they had accidentally sold me books specially ordered by another person and now they were re-ordering them.
I don't think this was a coincidence. That I walked in on a day when these books were waiting for me.
I don't think it's a coincidence that I spent months and years collecting everything I could ever find by the author and ordering them through that bookshop (#daysbeforeinternetshopping)
I don't think it's a coincidence that 17 years later I'm writing about one quartet and that I'm waking up wanting to reread the other books.
And it isn't a coincidence that after all this time and half a dozen plus re-reads, they still make me laugh out loud and fill my heart with warmth.
Sometimes, the world needs more simplistic feminist tales.
