On Becoming a Reader

A few weeks ago on Twitter there was a question going around that asked what books from your childhood made you a reader. I thought of a few children’s books that I loved reading over and over, but one of the authors who really stood out for me was Stephen King.

If you asked my mother what one word described me as a child it would probably be “scared.” I had terrible nightmares throughout my early school years, which (along with a vivid imagination) left me scared to go to bed at night for about three years. My mom banned me watching any movies or television shows she thought would feed the monsters in my head.

But she didn’t say I couldn’t sneak into my brother’s room and read his Stephen King novels. My mom was a librarian, after all. I don’t think telling us we couldn’t read something even entered her mind.

So I did.

I wanted to do anything that my big brother did.

He was a huge reader. Still is. And he was also my childhood hero. (Here’s a picture of us as kids). I adored him. (Even if he was a pain sometimes.) I’d follow him around and do whatever he asked me to do. It was kinda crazy, but hey, I was a kid growing up on a farm. Not much to do in the middle of a couple of corn fields.

My bro’s all-time favorite author then (and now) was Stephen King. I wanted to love King’s books too. Which of course meant I needed to read them.

I never had much time sitting on the floor of my brother’s room, listening for the sound of footsteps in the hall. In those days, I only managed to read a few chapters here and there, but the memory of those reading experiences stayed with me.

I’m not sure if it was doing something like my big brother, the few descriptions that I was able to sneak a peek at before my brother got home from basketball practice, or my family’s love of reading that shaped me into a reader. I’m just grateful something did.

So what made you a reader? Any books or authors from your childhood that hold a special place in your heart?

Sloan Parker
www.sloanparker.com