“Does ‘House of Leaves’/ Still lie on your bed?/ You told me to read/ But I still never read” -Jaymay (Big Ben)
It was seventh grade, and he was tall for the boys in our grade. His luscious hair glistened in the sunlight as I asked him, “What are you reading?” He gave me a look that those smart boys give and said, 1984, and just walked away. I went straight to the library and checked out that book the same day. And that’s when it started.
Somehow, I find myself attached to boys through literature. And yes, some of the books I have read in my life, some of my favorites, have been ones boys have loved themselves. And I dare to say there are a few bookshelves owned by men that have my favorites on them as well. Art connects people. And I’m sorry, but there is just something sexy about a man that reads. I have often found myself in some of the most wonderful conversations with guys about the books they have read. I remember seeing House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski sitting on the backseat as we made our way through the dazzling Northern California night. I remember long conversations and never-ending references to Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. I remember all of the tiny treasures of every gem on my bookshelf from The War of Art by Steven Pressfield to Improvise by Mick Napier.
And even when I’m eighty, I will hold of these memories close to my heart. And maybe, just maybe, I will find the strength to finish House of Leaves…Maybe.