The history of me reading

It all started before I was born… No seriously, studies say that a child growing up with parents that like reading, are more likely to develop the interest themselves. My parents were big readers, so I picked up the habit myself. 

I, like most children learnt to read in school, and then it became my biggest passion. The first books I remember reading were these really popular books about fairies. There was always a seven part series, and the story would repeat itself over and over again, but with different kinds of fairies. 

Then came second-grade. The year was 2010, I was eight years old and every one was still talking about Harry Potter, mostly the movies. Like every child at that age, I wanted to watch the Harry Potter movies, but my dad said that I had to read the books first. Unfair, I thought, but fine. And so it began, I started reading the first one and I took it with me everywhere. I still have clear memories of dragging the fifth one with me to school everyday. That book is a thousand pages and for eight year old me, it weighed a ton. Still, thanks to my dedication it took me less than a year to finish them all. 

By then I was hooked, I was reading everything that I got my hands on. My father and I used to go to our local library every third week and fill at least one big Desigual bag with books. It didn’t take long for me to move from the children part of the library to the young adult part. Not long after, I was reading real adult novels. 

Reading wasn’t really popular in my class, it was basically me and three other kids that liked it. Only one of them read as much as me. We bonded over our shared love for literature and favorite books sometime around 2012. Together we would read and discuss all kinds of slightly inappropriate books. We were after all still just ten and reading fiction meant for adults. To this day she is still my best friend, and we still talk a lot about books, but we do now also have other connecting interest.

Around 2014 I, at one time, got really, really bored and spent too much time on the floor in our basement staring at the literal wall of books we had there, trying to find something to read. That’s when I noticed the Game of Thrones. We only had them in English, and I still couldn’t read in that language, so I had my dad buy them in Swedish for me. My father is a nice, chill guy that basically has allowed me to do whatever I want too, for as long as I have been alive. So he didn’t consider that perhaps those books was a bit to brutal for a twelve year old. Still, I liked them.

In 2015 I could finally read good enough in English to understand a book, so what did I read? I read Harry Potter fanfiction. I toned down on actual paper books and started reading online, mostly Harry Potter, but also other fandoms. And let me tell you, fanfiction can be just as good, or better, than regular fiction. 

In early 2018 I started reading actual books again, mostly thanks to my awful Swedish teacher. At least something great came out of my ninth grade Swedish class. Nowadays I read a mix of fantasy and books considered classics. I prefer reading in English, mostly because I often read things written by English authors and the original version is better than the translated one. I’m looking forward to the day that I can read in French. I’m actively avoiding French authors until I can read the original piece.        

Disclaimer: My mother is innocent in all of this, she had little knowledge of what I was reading, and Game of Thrones wasn’t popular when I started it, ergo, she had no idea it was bad. And library day was with dad. He should be blamed for it all.

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