Not A Book, But A Series (öF Unfortunate Events)

Do you remember your favorite book from childhood?

I didn’t read much as a kid (nor do I now) since I had undiagnosed dyslexia & ADHD growing up. Meaning that reading was always an exhausting struggle (and still is). However, there was a series that seemed to be able to capture my attention. If you couldn’t guess from the post title, I’m talking about:

Lemony Snicket’s A Series Of Unfortunate Events

It was such a bizarre world to exist in, and it was the first time I actually got lost in the world born in my mind when reading. There’s something about stories with a spooky aesthetic & lots of shadows to hide the story in that makes me feel at home. Tim Burton is a perfect example: The Nightmare Before Christmas, Corpse Bride, & (although not TB) Coraline.

I think it has to do with the fact that I’m always on edge, though not scared – just uncomfortable for no reason. So the reason I enjoy spooky things is because it gives me a reason to feel on edge. I finally have something to face & focus on, rather than constantly searching for the Paranoia that’s tattooed onto the back of my neck.

I’m Like A White Rabbit Tweeked Out On Coffee (Or Maybe Mouse Traps Placed Next To Molehill Mountains Ü Made N A Panic!)

I guess to finish off this little trip down memory lane, I’ll end with my own little unfortunate event (as well as the other reason I rarely read). I never got to finish the series. I want to say that eventually, there were 13 books in total, though I only got through the 6th, maybe 7th, book. Not because I lost interest or didn’t have access. No. Much worse.

Mrs. Sowers, my 6th grade teacher, had noticed me only reading these books, so she told me (and I will never forget this): “I don’t want you to read those books anymore because I think you’re getting into a reading rut.” This was the first time in my life I actually wanted to read a book, and the person who’s supposed to be encouraging me to read can’t read the situation.

My reading wasn’t stagnating – it was in mid-bloom, and then she plucked the flower before the bulb could even open. I honestly believe that had I been allowed to read those books, I could have fallen in love with reading. Instead, I began resenting the teacher, so I refused to read anything at all. Even if I looked like I was in a “reading rut” – she didn’t pull me out – just buried me in a shallow grave.