What is in a Book?

Wanna know a secret?

I love books. No, that's an understatement. I ADORE books. Seriously. There is a book in my purse, hand, and on my bedside table at all times.

People who hate reading make no sense to me. What is not to love about entering into the world of somebody else and living life with them? Really?

One of my favorite authors is Francine Rivers. She is dramatic, but serious and captures the attention of her audience from the very first sentence. I have read all but two of her books and loved every one differently. My favorite is Redeeming Love. As a matter of fact, Redeeming Love is my all-time favorite book. It is the story of Hosea and his wife from the Bible that she took and placed in the nineteenth century. While reading, I find myself hating certain characters, coming to love others, and wanting to marry the main male character, Michael Hosea. You ladies will agree with me if you read it, I guarantee it.

When reading this phenomenal book, the characters come to life. I cry with them, I laugh with them, I become a character in the story watching silently from the sidelines.

Even if you don't like weepy, wonderfully amazing stories like Redeeming Love, you can still become a silent character in any sort of book. You're watching General Washington lead the war against the Red Coats. Or perhaps you are a magician watching a battle between good and evil. Maybe you are watching Mr. Darcy dance with Elizabeth Bennet.

What is it that you love? There's a book for that.

I am currently re-reading another Francine Rivers book, a book for my FANTASTIC literature/history/government/Bible class that C.S Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien started, and The Scarlet Pimpernel. All of these are amazing books and I love them all.

One more thing I love about books apart from the book itself: the smell. Oh, yes. The scent of a new book is reminiscent of past adventures I've had with the Mad Hatter, Jonathan Edwards, David, Micheal Hosea, Sheldon Vanauken, Frodo Baggins, Jean Valjean, Anne Shirley, Emma Woodhouse, and all my other fictional or nonfictional friends.

When I have to return to my world and go to school, or sleep, or go to work, part of me wants to go back and see what happens to Robin Hood as he robbes the rich to feed to poor.

What of this is not to love?