Before children I used to love reading. Proper novels or celebrity autobiographies.
A good book in my eyes is one I can't put down. I need to read it.
The Da Vinci Code was one of those books. I was that into it that I almost called in sick at work because I couldn't bare to be parted from my book.
I was almost the same with Memoirs of a Geisha. I loved it.
With both books I was eager to watch the films when released but was left disappointed at the lack of content missed out or changed around. I much prefer it to be real to the book.
I tried reading, on a number of occasions, The Time Travellers Wife, but I just couldn't get into it. My head couldn't get round the changes in time. Yet I found the film amazing.
Last year I finally finished a book which I'd started reading during my English A Levels in 2002. I really enjoyed the book but had only read half of it when I moved and the book got lost in a heap of boxes. I finally rediscovered it and over a couple of years eventually got round to finishing it. The book was The Butterfly Collector. I highly recommend it.
In 2006 we went to Tenerife and I took My Sisters Keeper along to read. Although we went out everyday I read as much as possible and ended up finishing the book on the flight home. I loved the book that much that I would prefer not to watch the film.
I am currently half way through two books. The Little House by Philippa Gregory and A Tiny Bit Marvellous by Dawn French.
Half way through both. It annoys me.
I can never finish books anymore, no matter how much I love them.
I tend to go through phases of reading lots then somehow come out of the loop and can't quite get back in properly.
When I realised Claire Richards from Steps was due to release an autobiography I became far too excited. I had to have her book. But then I realised that I still have two books I need to read, I must read, before I get anything else.
So I am being strict with myself. I have to have finished these two books until I can buy any others.
My husband bought me The Little House for Christmas in 2010. I'm now down to the last few chapters after a few nights of heavy reading. It's an amazing book it really is.
I put it on my Christmas list after loving the television series on ITV1 in 2010. The book is just as good, if not better than, the television programmes.
I'm going to check out other books by Philippa Gregory because I have enjoyed this one so much.
Then I need to tackle A Tiny Bit Marvellous which I used to read whilst feeding Harry at night in the first few months, then read on our car journey to Drayton Manor, left in the car and completely forgot about. Which is annoying as I know I was really enjoying it and finding it funny. Damn life getting in the way!
Why am I writing a post about books? Other than to recommend these ones anyway, and to give myself a kick up the bottom and realise that if I write that I'm going to finish these books by September 1st at the latest then I must.
But also to remind you all that there are other books written other than 50 Shades of Grey!
My goodness, I am sick sick sick of hearing about it. It's as if it is the only book that has ever been written, let alone the only racy book that has ever been written.
I feel much prouder for reading books that haven't involved me jumping on any kind of bandwagon and actually have a proper story, other than to be known to be full of sexual scenes. I'd much rather read a book with decent content, that's well written and doesn't rely on sex to sell it.
I see Facebook statuses from girls announcing that they've read all the books, and asking what they should read next. But they don't want a normal book, no Memoirs of a Geisha, no Da Vinci Code, no Butterfly Collector or Little House. Oh no, they want something racy.
Books can be exciting without having any reference to sex!
I expect to be the only person in the world to have not read this book soon.
The only way I would read it is if I was paid, and then it would have to be a lot of money.
The quicker the fuss dies down and something else comes along the better!