A message from the Pablo Escobar of pages

A self-proclaimed word mule, dealer, slinger, and reading pharmacist, I am the Pablo Escobar of pages — books are my drug of choice. Fiction is my poison since you can temporarily live in a different world than your own. Because of historically based novels, I’ve left my little California town, and lived in the South during the Civil War, crawled into the mind of a serial killer, observed WWII in numerous countries, and grimaced at life in North Korea.

Who else but an avid reader, can say they’ve met The Girl Before, ridden on an Orphan Train, commuted with The Girl on the Train, recognize The Woman in Cabin 10, and wish The Lilac Girls well, all in one weekend? Where else are we to learn about fierce, confident women who encounter mind-blowing obstacles and persevere? Unless we become these women ourselves, how are we to know what particular people endured in their lifetime if not to read about it?

But, dear reader, there is a problem.

Electronics are melting all our brains; for kids in particular. Whether we are talking about social media and smartphones or the proliferation of cross-platform gaming, people use their imagination less and less. Reading exercises a person’s memory and improves brain power. We must admit we are increasingly living in a society of non-readers. I find myself becoming the Pablo Escobar of pages because literature is grossly under-valued, and it needs to stop.

People need to crave a good book.

There are books that, once started, can’t be put down until turning the very last page. As soon as possible, I run out to desperately share a great read. I want fiction recipients to take the same journey as I just did. I’d like to hear how they imagined the story. If nothing else, I want to be able to say “Wasn’t that beyond belief? Don’t you wish you could start it again?”

When I share a book, I physically put it in someone else’s hands. Sorry eBooks aren’t my thing. The weight of the book has as significant an effect on the story as the words on the pages. I have to hold the book, smell the pages, and both literally and figurately, carry it with me. Ironic that this is an electronic confession but, read on.

Reading is equal parts choice and punishment in our house.

My daughter used to arrive at breakfast holding an open book, walk to school, passing in front of driveways with oncoming cars, all without looking up from the pages. She spent recess curled up on a bench with half her face blocked by books. She quietly read while traveling in the car and only stopped reading at bedtime, when forced to sleep. I too, repeatedly trade rest for reading. Unfortunately, speeding through pages is not habit-forming for the entire family. The male population in our house do not choose this hobby and would gladly set themselves on fire, or take out the trash, rather than pick up a book.

I have to believe the odds of a reading epidemic are high.

Friends often say “I’m going on vacation, you got anything good?” I usually do. I spend time with a network of like-minded book traders. We’re continually discussing, cultivating, and distributing engrossing exploits. We must focus our efforts if we want to win the war on reading. We need to shoot for the stars and create a reading pandemic of encyclopedic proportions.

If we are successful, a future scenario might look like this:
“Hey, hey, looking for a good whirl? I’ve got your fix.” Two of us would casually stroll while taking in the sites of Anytown USA. I might open the left side of my coat to reveal a paperback tucked in an inside pocket. “This will make you go off to another land and not want to come back.” The unbuttoned coat exposes another book tucked under my arm. “And this one? You’ll be screaming conspiracy theory before you know it.” Finally, we’d come to a stop at a street corner. “Need to go to church?” I’d dig into my abnormally large pocket. “Yeah, take this. It’s hard to adjust to in the beginning, then you will be so into it, the walls could be falling around you, and you wouldn’t care; it’s that gripping.”

We should look to convert one person at a time. The formula: grab a person who has a biological vulnerability to the printed word, find the perfect read, and at the ideal time, pass them the page-turner that will alight their imagination and make them travel. Do this, and we will have assembled all the ingredients needed to create a reading addict.

HQ update: The act of consuming the written work hasn’t become a full outbreak in our house. However, as of this printing, I can report we’ve made strides on the reading war in two ways:
1. My son has asked to take his book to read in the car (once).
2. You’ve read this post.

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