The first book I read.
The First Book I Read
The love for reading is a welcome inheritance from my fatherπ. I couldnβt have had it any other way. I wouldnβt have!π.
I can hardly recall when I began reading books by myselfπ
. But what I do remember is that every year, just before the summer break, our school would hold a book exhibition and hundreds of books were sold at concessional rates.
Mom would take us; me and younger brother, to the exhibition and I would help myself to a bookish treat of skimming through piles of books for hours. I would buy a handsome number of books each summer, mostly mysteries β Drew, Christie, Sir Doyle β majorly. I guess the habit of buying books and reading more and more, has been instilled since then, since the age of 8.
So although I developed a habit of reading since an early age, the sad part is that I hardly remember the titles I read then. Nothing much of the reading memories has lasted this long. My first book, in the true sense of it, is one that I read in grade 6 for our English curriculum. It was a short story by the Russian writer, Leo Tolstoy β What Men Live by. Little else has remained with me, as this story.
Michael, an angel is heaven is punished by God for not following Godβs bidding and is sent to earth. He is set a task to find answers to Godβs 3 questions, only then can he return. It is a heart-touching tale, one narrated from the angelβs perspective, which as a student and later as a writer, has inspired me immensely. Written in Tolstoyβs classic style, it teaches us just how important is to love, to forgive, to understand, to obey, and finally, not look down upon one.
Personally, itβs been a feeling of sheer pride that a writer as great as Tolstoy has been my idol. He inspired my reading as he inspires my writing. As I grew up, I read more and more of his books.ππ
