Reclaiming a Personal Literary Heritage

 Hey, friends! It's me, Olivia, the person just a little too proud of herself for reading books!

    At the heart of me, there lies a little book-nerd girl who would read in the car until the light was completely gone (we can attribute my horrendous eyesight in part to this), who read multiple Magic Tree House books in a day, and read To Kill a Mockingbird when others her age still thought Diary of a Wimpy Kid was the peak of literature. I developed a love for stories and a passion for words that shaped almost every part of who I am today. So why is the fact that I completed some books this month so worth celebrating in my mind? 

    The story there is that I lost that piece of myself somewhere in the drudgery of AP classes and extracurriculars. Despite all the wonderful teachers over the years who encouraged my literary growth and personal writing skills, regardless of all those who just knew I would one day be an English teacher, librarian, or writer, I let my love of books slip to the wayside. I held-fast to the love of adventure, of good stories to pass down over time, and the power of the pen; I ditched the actual books when reading for fun lost its appeal while I was busy reading the Outsiders and then King Lear and then all the greatest works in history when I started college and the Great Books program. 

    I eventually got exhausted with myself after seeing so many friends share about the stories they were adding to their collection of read books. I was amazed that so many of my friends had been able to balance their busy schedules and school assignments with their love for literature, whereas I had, quite frankly, failed at this. I grew sick with myself for surrendering this hobby that had so fundamentally shaped me over the years. I knew I needed to change that.

    As it turns out, there is nothing like a somewhat spur of the moment girls' trip with some fellow nerdy friends to kick my reading ambitions into high gear. Our vacation destination may be known for its rowdy streets and live music (hello NashVegas), we knew the city was full of adorable bookstores just waiting to be explored. That is how the three of us found ourselves on the supremely cute Main Street in Franklin, Tennessee ready to enter Landmark Booksellers. The shop seemed to transport me into a different world, to simpler times. Maybe it was the charming collection of both new and old books lovingly shelved in what used to be a house (I'm sure), or possibly the super comfy couches and perfectly cozy lighting, it could have been they friendly staff so ready to help in the hunt for the perfect book, but the place was perfect. I picked out two books and excitedly purchased them at the front desk, eager to get to reading. Then, with confirmation from the employee that the paperbacks on the cart outside were in fact free, I added two more books to my brown paper bag of purchases. My friends were still making their last selections so I was happy to curl up on one of the couches and dive into one of the books. Since, I have not been able to stop reading, making quick work of my new purchases and moving on to some old, neglected gems.

    The moral of this particular story is not to pat myself on the back. It is really quite the opposite. I am not proud of abandoning something that has brought me so much over the years, but I am overjoyed to have made even a small leap back to my literary heritage. I hope that to anyone stumbling across this post who has found themselves in a similar predicament can be encouraged. Even if words on pages are not your lost love, I encourage you to reconnect with whatever is. If there is something that helped cultivate and craft you into the person you are leaving a hole, if there are lost passions and dreams of the kid within, if there are stories in your heart bottled up and never told, chase them. Do not wait to rediscover simple joys. 

    I may never be a world-renowned writer. I may never pass down some of my favorite stories. I may never even read all of the books on my shelf (maybe in part because it grows faster than it should). I can do what I can, when I can, to nurture that part of myself that wants nothing more to get swept away in a narrative. That's not to say a month or two from now you won't find me nose in some philosophy for Great Books, neglecting my personal reading goals, but that is partially why I write this now. A tangible story, in my own words, of my pride in having rediscovered books that may one day help me do the same again. I promise you all to try to keep the spirit of this post alive every day regardless.