Literature

Gah. Lit is overtaking my life. Lit always was a big part of my life. But now when I start to analyse it, it loses some of it's initial magic, but somehow, seems even more fascinating.

I don't see how people can survive without literature, it has already wormed its way through into our lives and resided in corners, or openly in our hearts and minds. In the world we live in, there's so much literature, be it in the form of ink on paper, or film, or text in the metal boxes we call computers. Maybe if you lived in a remote part of the world, where your life revolved around the little green vegetables you grew to sustain your life, you wouldn't really care much about literature. [but if you were, you wouldn't be reading this now, right?]

I grew up surrounded by books, first those beautiful picture books, where I started recognising sounds, and alphabets, you know the little squiggly things that form words? Then I moved on to the likes of Enid Blyton, where I learnt that people in England eat dinner at lunchtime, pudding was delicious, and fairies were real. Enid Blyton brainwashed me, quite, into believing the world was all black and white, and thus the start of my innocent kindergarden/primary childhood. I was immersed in English culture then, I supposed it did improve my english, more importantly, it impounded [is that the word?] alot of morals in me, I think everybody should start their life that way, very innocently. The world might be a better place.

After Enid Blyton, my apetite for books grew bigger and bigger. Little hardbacks couldn't satisfy me, so I was introduced to The Library. Oh heaven! Air-conditioned, filled with shelves after shelves of books, just waiting for me to gobble them! I would never mind spending a whole day in the library. >< So Enid Blyton I read no more, and instead of getting sucked into British territory everytime I opened a book, I stepped into dark dungeons, warm castles, dragon's lairs, fairies' rings. I don't remember being any happier than snuggled in a cushion in a library soaking myself in the essence of a book.

And even as I chased after villians, helped heroes along, gasped at pretty maids and dashing noblemen, I was still hungry. So, added on to my trolley was fiction. And I stumbled into China, Japan, Africa, Asia, India, Germany, America, and other wondrous countries. I intruded into the private lives, sometimes even minds, of others, till I felt I was their closest friend, yet an unmoving bystander. I cried with them, laughed with them, and our journey continued long after the covers closed and squashed us in between.

Then when I entered secondary school. Somehow, my apetite waned, not that I was full, I was just, I don't know, tired? See what secondary school does to you. Or maybe it was just my school. *GASP* Slander! How dare she! Black and White world no more, the books I read changed too. Farewell innocence, goodbye clouded eyes, here now I enter The World.