I lived my life in books

I have never been a person enamoured with that thing called adventure. If there is something exciting going on, I am usually heading in the other direction. For me adventure is trying out a new restaurant, or cutting an extra inch off my hair.

I think the technical term is ‘novelty averse’.

I am the sort of person who feels deeply emotional when hearing an anecdotal story about someone I have never even met. Homeless puppies, sagas of lost journals, can really tear me up. If there’s a spider trapped in a sink, I am the kind of person who rescues it—Ok, maybe not the spider.

Despite this I have lived a million adventures within the pages of a book, and particularly bloodthirsty adventures at that.

Yes, I will confess at this point that I possess particularly violent taste when it comes to other peoples adventures. Torture and killing is absolutely fine in the quest of a good story—the more brutal the better. Our heroes wouldn’t have a chance to shine without a few trials and obstacles in their way.

Let’s face it, a walk in the park never made a hero—unless the walk in the park happened to involve thwarting an attack by alien vampires with secret plans to destroy the earth.

Perhaps it’s just as well that I stick to the books 😉


6 thoughts on “I lived my life in books

  1. What a great post. A kindred spirit. I cry at those insipid McDonald’s commercials about old folks hooking up over happy meals. I like my perfectly lame life. But the books I love to read…dark and violent fantasies with the heroes hanging on by their fingernails. Awesome.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I think it was Sue Grafton, the mystery writer, who said that if she was reading a novel and there wasn’t at least one dead body, preferably dead under mysterious circumstances, she started to lose interest.

    Presumably she has the same aversion to dead bodies in her actual life that most of us have, but books are different. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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