On Reading

From the journal of someone obsessed with reading>

The first stories I remember loving were the stories told in a textbook called I CAN. They were stories accompanied by vibrant pictures designed to pique the interests of the 4-6-year-old reading them. Particular words were always written in brighter colors in the stories. I especially remember learning the words Basket, and market from these stories. It was in the chapter where the main characters, kids around my age back then, followed their mother to the market for the first time. They were the words the writers and subsequently our teachers wanted us to focus on, the words our knowledge would be tested on in the exercises that followed each chapter. 

But 6-year-old me was neither interested in the vibrant pictures nor the colorful words, I was interested in the stories and their adventures; ohh, they’re going to the market today, ohh, it’s a road trip today, it’s a visit to the pharmacy, a visit to the grandparents and so on. That was the sole reason why I looked forward to future volumes as we advanced in academic terms. 

But most importantly, that marked the beginning of an everlasting love story; my love story with reading. 

The first storybook I remember loving was a book titled AKITI, THE GHOST. A story about a useless and lazy husband who pretends to be a ghost to scare away his hardworking wife and two kids with the intention of stealing her money. They’d later orchestrate a plan to catch the ghost and the song they sang to embarrass him when he was finally caught still lives rent-free in my head. [FUN FACT: randomly decided to search the title online while writing this and someone had posted the whole story online. I read it in less than 2 minutes. This was a story we read for a whole term back then]. 

I think it was Sugar Girl, a book I read at the age of 8/9 that solidified my love for reading. It made me realize that’s what I want to do for the rest of my life; read books. I loved Sugar Girl so much that it made me fall in love with the writer, Kunle Onadipe. He's that one writer who made my childhood. He's that one writer that I'll never forget. I read some of his other books: Magic Lands of the Shadows and Sweet Mother. The latter was the first book that made me cry. At 9, God! I cried so much reading that book. It made me admire mothers more. And it’s funny how I can hardly remember what happened in the book. 

In primary school, I was always borrowing books from the library. I had a tactic; borrow a book before the first period, read it in between pauses in classes and break time, return it by closing hour borrow another one to take home, and return the next morning. That was my cycle. I remember the day the library prefect(a senior, now one of my closest friends) refused to allow me to take another book one morning. I felt so bad and crumbled. It’s still one of the most wicked acts someone has ever done to me😂 and I'm never going to forgive her. 

I remember the first time I read a story with white characters. It was a retelling of fairy tales. I was either 9 or 10. I enjoyed the stories a lot but it didn't feel like home, didn't feel like “ohhh, these characters could be me.”

I'd grow up to be known as the girl who reads a lot. I was just doing my thing and didn't even realize people were watching me or that they found what I was doing commendable. My aunties wanted their kids to emulate me because at least, reading would broaden their vocabulary. My parents were bothered. Reading was a great thing, especially because I took after my mom who read a lot as a teenager but mine was just pure obsession. They were worried it'd affect my studies. For me, I didn’t care. I just wanted to read. I’d urge my mom to buy the recommended story books before resumption so I’d read all of them. I’d read all the comprehension passages in English Textbooks before resumption, including the ones in my siblings’ textbooks. I was that obsessed with stories, with reading.

It was me and African stories against the world during my preteen years. Lantern books? I read nearly all of them. Platinum books? You'd always find one or two in my school bag. Pacesetter books? I'm not sure anyone read them as much as I did. Past and Present books, that publisher that published Mother’s Choice(really found the publications impressive and unique). Reading Purple Hibiscus and Joys of Motherhood was another experience that made me realize reading will always be a superior hobby. 

I was 13 when I was introduced to Harlequin, Mills and Boon, and Silhouette books. And boy, did I devour these books! I'd read ten books in a week and it's a wonder how I still managed to be a top student in school. God bless superior genes because left to me ehn, I was the walking representation of unserious. Instead of listening in class, I’d hide a novel in between my notebook and read. I'd do the same thing at home so my parents would think I was studying. Most of these books made me have an archaic belief about Western novels. Because the books were mostly romance and erotica, I concluded that is all there is to Western novels; shallow plots, and sexual connection as the major connection needed for a romantic relationship. It wasn't until I read Summer Island by Kristin Hannah that I threw that opinion away. God! So much depth, a heartfelt story, the best mother-daughter relationship, and the bestest love story. Anything to go back to that day in 2014 when I read Summer Island for the first time> 

Nothing Last Forever was the first book that made me stay up till 4 am. I was 13. It was the book that made me conclude that thrillers/mysteries are the best genres. That book blew my mind. It shocked me. I was like; “how can a normal person come up with this? This shouldn't be possible.” I concluded that the writer wasn't normal at 18 when I binge-read all his other books in less than a week. Are You Afraid of the Dark and Tell Me Your Dreams stood out for me. The latter made me realise that the writer wasn't a normal human but a god that should revered.

A lot of people were awed by how much I read. In school, teachers who weren’t even my teachers would point out that I was too obsessed with reading novels. Juniors would ponder on how I could read that much. Even people that weren’t my friends would lend me novels. Some found it bothersome. I remember one of her neighbors, a dentist who wanted his first child to follow in his path, subtly telling me that I was leading her astray by making her read so many novels when she was supposed to be a serious science student. 

I didn’t read that many African stories when I was in senior secondary school. They were hardly available and were too expensive. Oh, did I mention that my classmates contributed money for me to buy books? Funny, right? They contributed money for me to buy my first copy of Half of a Yellow Sun. As a teenager, I wanted to read a book that’d mirror my reality. The American teen stories I read with 15/16-year-olds going on wild adventures were a far cry from my reality. This is why Last Days at Forcados High will always be special to me. It was the perfect Nigerian teen story and I wish we’d get more published Nigerian stories like that. I really loved reading that book. It was like the book I’ve been waiting for my whole life.

After spending my life savings on buying Harlequin novels, I was introduced to the world of soft copies in 2017 and that was when proper binge-reading started. Sidney’s books were the first books I binge-read. Imagine reading almost 20 books in roughly a week😭. The same thing happened for Mary Clark Higgins's books. She was one of the writers that solidified my love for thrillers in my earlier teen years with her book “Remember”. So when I got the opportunity to download her books(more than 45 then), I binge-read them in a month. If you’re a recent friend or acquaintance(from 2020 or later) and you think I read a lot, you definitely didn’t meet me when I was an *active reader*. Reading used to be on par with breathing for me.

It’d be a crime to write about reading and not mention Wattpad. Before Wattpad, I read on coolval on Facebook and that subsequently led me to Nissi Adeola and Lola Opatayo. Reading their stories made my 2015 and 2016. My roommate introduced me to Wattpad in 2017 and my early days on Wattpad were filled with American stories, most unpleasant but somehow enjoyable but I read great ones that I’d never forget. Books like In 27 Days, Chasing Red, Dream Catcher series, and the She’s with Me series. But it wasn’t until I read a Nigerian book on the app that I felt truly at home. WattNaija stories are really superior.

I don’t know why or what exactly prompted my love for reading but whatever it was, I’m grateful for it. Being an avid reader is the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. I honestly can’t imagine my life without books, without reading. What else would I do with this life if not read? I’m grateful for it. Grateful to have inspired people to read more. The first time someone told me they read more because of me, I felt so fulfilled and now, I have a lot of people that have told me that. Also grateful for reader friends, from group chats where we can rant all day about books. Nothing beats having bookish conversations.

I’ll always be in awe of books, of stories, of storytellers, of writers. I used to see books as something really sacred. Like whenever I see a book, I used to feel this flutter in my heart. It’s like locking eyes with a loved one and I’m not even joking. It’s not that intense these days. I still love books, and will never stop loving books but there’s so much abundance of books around me these days so they hardly feel sacred now.

I could go on and on, could write a million words about what reading is to me and I’d still have so much to write. So I’ll stop here today. Are you a reader and what made you one? 

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