Putting my thoughts about books into cyberspace is a very taunting task, but I love to read, and frankly, all these thoughts I have are taking up so much mental space that it's beginning to get difficult to fall asleep at night. And I really love my sleep.
But I'll give up sleep for a good book any night. And that's how you'll know if I really liked something. If I start the post with "Just downed my 2nd coffee because I was up all night reading ...." (or something along those lines). I might not be a very happy person when I wake up after only 2 hours of sleep, but I'll be content enough because I read something awesome.
Speaking of which, my husband (lets call him J) was kind enough to bring me an extra large coffee this morning (1 milk, 1 sugar - in case curiosity over this matter ever gets the best of you) as I was up until 2 am reading.
I've read some really great books. I've read some horrible books. I've stopped reading authors because their plots are predictable. I've started reading authors because I was going through a reading dry-spell. I admit I sometimes do judge a book by its cover. When all is said and done (and I'm sleep deprived and jacked up on caffeine), I just want to 'miss' the story itself. It's the only way I know that it was worth it.
I'll be honest about what I like and what I don't. But in the end, I'm reading and buying these books because I bought 2 tall bookcases from IKEA for this sole purpose of filling the 12 shelves with books. Some dream about walk-in closets for their clothes. I dream about bookshelves for my books.