So one of the things that I always loved was reading. My mom being a teacher was very much against me learning to read before I started school, but during the first few weeks of first grade I taught myself to read with the help of the alphabet pictures and some random questions to my teacher or second graders. Learning to write was a whole different matter, but by early October I was caught not paying attention, because I was reading the easier texts in the back of the book. By Christmas I could read well beyond grade level, and started to discover Janikovszky Éva’s very funny children’s books, Pöttyös Panni, a children’s series about a girl wearing polkadot dresses, and the booklets about Hungarian history that I was supposed to color, but I only read them.
The summer after first grade I discovered comic books and folk tales. I spent a rainy summer week in Vonyarcvashegy being introduced to Karinthy Frigyes, whose humor and style later prompted me to apply to the high school named after him. Second grade brought my introduction to science fiction and true crime, and there I found my true love. Over the years I read whatever I could get my hands on, and as I started high school it grew to include texts in English. A true Sherlock Holmes fan from age ten, The Complete Short Stories about him was the first book I read in English cover to cover. The second one was George Orwell’s 1984. Reading was always a source of comfort and an opportunity to discover the world. I’ve read enough random things that when people talk about movies more often than not I can honestly say, “I haven’t seen the movie, but the book was good.” Yep, I’m that annoying friend.
For the last few years my reading was reduced to nearly zero. A Brandon Sanderson book here and there, or a professional text, and that was it. It felt like the years of college, when in the first year if I read anything other than Functional Anatomy I experienced immense guilt, and for years after it was hard to get myself to read without feeling anxious and guilt. Then in recent years depression and anxiety took the joy out of reading. I did my scripture reading religiously. It was a compulsive behavior more than feasting upon the word of Christ (see 2 Nephi 31:20). In Elder Bednar’s words at the fireside in Budapest this past October, it was a chore I did, and while it helped me learn, it really was just that. A chore.
And then a miracle happened.
This miracle came in the form of new medication and different therapy (I’m still grateful for my previous therapist, the work we did together, and his suggestion of looking into other types of therapy,) and a sale on books I’m interested in at Libri. In addition, the first of the four surprise novels by Brandon Sanderson came to my Kindle on January 1, 2023. Many of the books I’m reading these days have to do with psychology. Many are fantasy. Very few classic sci-fi, but I started to re-read the Dune series. So, as usual, I’m reading several books at once.
Reading is my primary mode of learning. I can listen to an audiobook and retain very little of the information, because my mind will wonder. However, when I read, especially when I read a real paper book, the visual and tactile inputs together help me recall what I read much better. Furthermore, if I listen to music while reading, I often end up associating certain playlists or individual songs with books or scenes I was reading. Like Harel Skaat’s Kol HaTziporim will always remind me of Game of Thrones, and the long travel from Winterfell to King’s Landing. I used to read on the tram, for the four stops between Mester utca and Móricz Zsigmond körtér both ways, every day. When I hear that song I can feel the soft cover of my old Kindle in my hand and see the butcher’s shop in my left peripheral vision on Karinthy Frigyes út as I was waiting for the tram to finally leave. Touching embossed heavy paper covers on a hard cover book will always evoke the memories of reading Harry Potter for the first time, freshly home from my mission, the first three books being the first ever thing I ordered online. And as my fingers turn the pages of a book with bible paper, I will always remember the flight home from San Diego, first reading the Book of Mormon.
So I’m reading again. Not as fast, not as much as I used to. Life is a lot noisier than it once was. Anxiety is still very much part of my life, and I react to any and all distractions with my full attention instead of ignoring them. But I’m reading again.
So This Woman 