I read slower than just about anybody in the world. I’m not backward, or at least I don’t think I am.
My daughter is in grade one and she reads aloud faster than I read internally. In my defense she is on level 25 and, I’m told, is very advanced for grade one.
I honestly believe that this slow reading is a gift. Why? Because every second, minute, hour, day, week and month that I plod through a novel I am building an emotional connection to that novel, to its story and especially to its characters.
Even to the point where I carry that emotion in between reading sessions; quite often squarely on my shoulders.
Love, lust, fear, anxiety, joy; I become totally immersed in them.
The most extreme example of this was at the age of 25 finally I read the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy.
Even though I could barely put the books down they took me months to read.
During that time I flipped my way slowly into the depths of Mordor, my mood and behavior becoming darker, more somber with each page. To use a word from Tolkien, I became Grimm.
I’m sure that before I had finished the series I had developed a stoop.
It is one thing to read of another’s journey, it is another altogether to live it emotionally.
So to all of you speed readers and skimmers out there I offer my condolences, you don’t know what you are missing.