For some of us, books are as important as almost anything else on Earth.
What a miracle it is that out of these small, flat, rigid squares of paper unfolds world after world after world, worlds that sing to you, comfort and quiet or excite you.
Books help us understand who we are and how we are to behave. They show us what community and friendship mean;
they show us how to live and die.
I have already answered why I began writing fiction, so let me unpack why I read it too.
I think I have always been a bookworm.
As a child, I enjoyed reading stories of other people in other times and other places with other problems.
Why is it that we seek out more problems, about people who we don’t even know, who aren’t even alive?