Recently, I have been reading books to my mother, who will be 94 in a couple of weeks.  We have shared 17 books so far, there’s no end in sight, and we don’t intend to stop.  Because of macular degeneration, my mother’s eyesight has suffered dramatically and reading is no longer enjoyable for her.  I have always loved reading aloud and asked her if she would like to have me read so we could enjoy a book together.

It started with one book and then another and we just love it and do it almost everyday we are together.  I always loved reading aloud to my kids and other kids too, when I worked in libraries.  And sometimes, I was able to read aloud in some high school English classes when I worked with my hearing-impaired students who were main-streamed into regular classes.

When a book is read aloud, it is experienced in a very different way.  It becomes a shared experience between the reader and listener(s).  It reminds me of my 8th grade teacher who would read books to us and we would be transported on an adventure together. I absolutely loved it and looked forward to those days when we were able to hear a story told by such a wonderful reader.  It was special.

I remember reading about the times before TV or radio, when families would gather after the evening meal and the parents would read to their children.  It was a family tradition for some. And sometimes, it was a way to share sacred texts and build the foundations of faith.

As an adult, I love attending Book Readings by authors.  And at a lecture I attended, Jim Trelease (author of The Read Aloud Handbook), said that sometimes it can even be appropriate for college professors to read to their students.  Reading to my mom, I have found out what an intimate experience it is for us to share a story at the same time.  I will look up and see her expressions as I read, and we will sometimes have to stop and share our reactions.

If one were to compare the experience of watching a movie or reading the book it was based on, the book wins, hands down, every time.  Even a fine representation of a book in a movie, cannot compare with the fully-developed story in a novel or biography.  At least, that’s my opinion.  Of course, this whole blog is my opinion. But I think my Mom would agree.  We are on a journey, and it’s one we take great pleasure in together.  Isn’t that a wonderful thing?