I’m A Bookophile and Delayed Onset #1… What Are You?

No, I’m not speaking in tongues or some WordPress-version of morse code. I’m talking reader styles. While stumbling, I came across this great article from The Atlantic Wire: What kind of book reader are you?

I’m not here to make grand accusations about bloggers, but, most bloggers I know are big readers. When I see a book, I can’t help but pick it up. The smoothness of the paperback and trade paperbacks is irresistible. Unveiling the straight-to-the-point nature of a hardcover book without its jacket is invigorating. And the smell of books? Oh, lord… stop me now!

At this point you either think I’m certifiable or are allowing a grin to creep across your face in mutual respect and understanding. I am hoping for reaction option two. If you’re reaction option one, put down your gavel and stop judging.

What Kind of Book Reader Are You?

4 responses to “I’m A Bookophile and Delayed Onset #1… What Are You?

  1. Reblogged this on Where the Mind Roams and commented:
    I am a sporadic reader. I used to read more often, but now it’s whenever I have the chance and when I don’t feel lazy. But once I get a grasp on a book, it’s over. The book should consider itself read.

  2. I have — unfortunately for me — developed a tendency to read sporadically. When I do get a hold of a book, it must catch my attention within the first 50 pages, or I’m done. If it does catch my attention within those critical 50 pages, the book might as well consider itself read. I am a bibliophile. I go into a library and I feel something close to the feeling of butterflies not only in my stomach, but throughout my entire body. It makes me hate myself a little bit more that I don’t allow myself more time to read.

    • Wherethemindroams, introductions are most important… I couldn’t agree more. I’m with you… after 50 pages, if I’m not hooked, I move along. The down side is the terrible guilt I feel over it! Thanks for re-blogging! 🙂

      • Same here! I usually feel guilt over not finishing a book.I attempted to read “A Brave New World” by Aldous Huxley, but by page 54, I quit. I didn’t hit me in the literary gut. After quitting it, I went on the usual inner tirade of how I could never call myself a writer if a don’t friggin’ read (although I read all the time).

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