It’s that time of year. Everywhere you look it’s red and green everything— even my coffee cup has caught the Christmas spirit. The malls are flooded with stressed out parents and kids riding that candy cane sugar high while they bop around to Christmas pop music. Wish lists are growing like kudzu in diaries across the country, and my nieces and nephews are asking for toys I didn’t even know existed.
But they know better than passing those lists my way because they get the same thing from me that everyone else gets. Books.
It’s the price you pay to be a member of my family. You get books for Christmas. Because even if you are “not a reader” I operate under the theory (delusion?) that if I can find the perfect book, you will read it.
So every year around this time, I head over to my local indie bookseller (Novel. I love it there. Order books from them!), list in hand, and peruse the aisles until I find the perfect book for everyone on my list. Do I operate under the illusion that my family members read these books? I absolutely do.
Maybe this is selfish. After all, I’m forcing my interest (reading) down the throats of everyone I love. BUT! I like to think that, in fact, I’m sharing something great with someone I love. It only takes one book— the right book— to hook them for life.
SHAMELESS PLUG: If you think a book about a world in which everyone is a twin and some teens fight back against an oppressive religious order, consider getting yourself a copy of my book, THE DIMINISHED, and pre-ordering its sequel, THE EXALTED!