The book that got it all started

It was a cold, dark night in December of last year (um, 2010) and my brother and sister decided they wanted to go to the bookstore.  I wasn’t particularly interested in tagging along, but I had nothing better to do (i.e. took awoke to sleep, Haram salaah was finished, and not interested in TV), so why not?  I entered the store, and John Grisham’s newest book caught my eye.  It always does, mainly to point at it and fake excitement to my father or sister.  But this time, my sister just kept on walking, because y’know she actually had a purpose behind the trip.  Snob.  I ended up picking it, reading the jacket, and then swallowing my pride.   The book actually sounds interesting I whisper to myself in somewhat horror, acknowledging that something in my brain has just changed over the last ten years.

I don’t read John Grisham books.  I never understood the fascination my father and sister had with his books.  I never got why they started reading it, and could not put it down.  It was like there was glue on the book, and the glue only wore off when they reached the last page.  I tried reading his books and couldn’t get beyond the first couple pages without yawning.  I almost felt sorry for them, they must be boring people.   Apparently, I was just too young to read his books and was not quiet ready to appreciate the depth he has to offer.  Or I’ve become boring.*rolls eyes*

I accept my fate, and take the book upstairs, find a seat eventually, and start reading.  47 suspenseful pages later my sister rudely interrupts saying that we have to go.  Like why?!?  Can’t we just stay the night in the bookstore?  Bookstores should be open 24/7 (I mean, c’mon, what if somebody wakes up at 2am and needs a need book to read?  Oh, I guess those types have the Kindle… Snobs.) Anyways,  I have no clue whether the dude is goin to be executed or not, and I have to know.  *sigh*

To make myself feel better, the next time I went to the library, I ended up checking out The Last Juror.  It’s really nice when you read a book you make guesses along the way only get to the end and find out all your guesses were wrong.  Somehow I also ended up reading The Appeal, which I had actually bought a year ago for 50 pennies at a book sale since my sister sincerely believed she would never vote again due to it.  But she’s a true American.  She did vote.  Good for her.  I was supposed to read The Partner too, but apparently I can handle murder (not personally, after all I am still a peaceful Muzlim), I can handle verbal interrogation (again, not personally), but a few pages is too much for physical torture.  So, um, two weeks and I still have to brave it out.  Tonight is the night, because I will feel utterly ashamed to return the book without finishing it.  It is an awesome book though.  And I really can’t believe I just said that.  I have crossed into the dark side.  *sigh*

At least I finally read a book for the heck of it and not because I had to!  *proud*


3 thoughts on “The book that got it all started

  1. My God, I actually laughed out loud at several parts there.

    All the time you faked excitement, you were the snob. Snobby McSnobster.

    I still have to read The Last Juror. I can’t believe I put it down after a couple chapters! Not because it was boring, mind you! It was not! Just, I guess…the switch in *my* brain has been kinda wonky 😯

  2. Pingback: Binging on Grisham « Getting Snappy

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