Even before I became a parent I rarely read a book cover to cover. It would be highly unusual for me to read every word that was written in a predicatble sequence.   Instead I read like a hunter. I have a very specific agenda. I’m on the hunt for words or phrase that surprise, sentences that draw me in, and ideas that almost leap of the page and bite me. Sometimes there are also images or bits of dialogue that are just too juicy to ignore. I underline those words, to copy down at a later date, then I throw the rest away. Meaning, I don’t go back to read the parts I missed or finish the story. I return the book to the library or donate it to a friend who I think may enjoy it. I feel no allegiance to the author or the characters in the book. It’s a brutal pastime really.

I rarely talk about my approach of readin to other people, espcially other writers, or anyone who has written and published a long body of work, as it makes them flinch just a little bit. Because of this habit, I am always “reading” several books at once.

When my husband and I were first dating he was initially impressed by the amount of books I read. They were often piled high along the floor of my couch, some flung open on the kitchen table, dog eared, bookmarked and underlined.

I knew our relationship had reached a new level of intimacy when he discovered how I read them. The  conversation went something like this:

“How could you just skip ahead to the final chapter when you haven’t even read the second one yet?!”

“Because I can”  “…And because I want to see if the book is worth my time”.

“But you’ve already spoiled it!”

“Uh-huh.”

Perhaps the real reason I skim read everything– and I mean everything: fiction, non-fiction, cereal boxes, poetry—Is that I don’t read for information, entertainment, or escape. It’s fine to be transported to some other time, place, or reality, but that doesn’t interest me much.

I read to be moved. If something doesn’t move me I move on. It doesn’t have to be much: a word, phrase or piece of dioloque, the way a certain character is decribed. Then I take out my scalpel, trim away the fat and store those juicy bits in the refridgerator of my heart and mind for later use. I read like a scavenger, like a thief, like a hunter and like a bandit.

I have no remorse.

I am hungry and restless. But I read.