Raised by a working mother, during my childhood, I was often taken to her office. She is an English teacher. While she was teaching, she would let me ‘play’ in her school library. I wasn’t the kind of kid who liked to run around and being hyperactive. In the library, I found myself busy traversing from shelf to shelf and touching the spines of the books. I had a special fascination with big hardcover books. It felt satisfying to hear the ‘hissing ASMR sound’ when picking them up from the shelf. Those big books were encyclopedias. Encyclopedia section was always my go-to part of the library. I wasn’t able to read at that time so I only paid attention to books with pictures. Flipping through the pages of encyclopedias filled me with awe and wonder. I could see radiant colored mammals, birds, reptiles, and insects without going to a zoo. Who would’ve thought that a strong bond between a boy and nature started from seeing pictures in the encyclopedia? Who would’ve thought that a boy would become a bookworm just because her mother giving him the library as a playground?

My family had a big role in shaping my reading hobby. If my mother had led me to my literary journey, my father showed me that reading books is a good thing. He had a dedicated tall shelf for his books at home. He proudly put that tall shelf in the living room, showing that books are treasures worth to be displayed for the guests to see. Both of my parents treat books as something valuable. They wouldn’t let me buy a toy but for books, they wouldn’t mind spending their cash. My sister also influenced me in reading. She always had mangas lying around in her room which I was always curious about and she would be annoyed if she found me out skimming the pages.

Once I gained the ability to read, during my adolescence, my relationship with books was getting closer. At first, I would only read books with illustrations like kids’ magazines and mangas, but I slowly stepped up my reading game to novels later on. I revelled in stories of a girl who captured supernatural beings in cards with her magical staff, a young lad who rode a fire-breathing dragon to fight the evil king or a midget who had a mission to destroy a ring possessed by a dark lord. Fantasy fiction was my first love. Reading them made my imagination flourished.

Pop culture also affected my reading choice, especially film media. It made me exposed to the buzz of literature. One of the works which were often talked about that became my favorite was Andrea Hirata’s Laskar Pelangi tetralogy. His works had motivated me to dream big. Not seldom I was also made to cry and laugh by his characters. His writings had the power to make me empathize and to remind me to be more humble and kinder.

In fiction, I also found solace. It was a hard time for my family after my father passed away. By reading, I had my own adventure in a world built by words. I made friends with the characters in the stories I related to. I could feel varied emotions from melancholy to felicity. It had helped me to console my grief. It was a form of escapism and refuge from the harsh reality.

I was getting more intimate with books when the books in my bedroom started to pile up to big stacks so that my mother gave me a bookshelf exclusively for my collection. I treat my books as the most precious thing that I had. I covered them with plastic jackets, I never scribble on nor fold the pages, and I always had trust issues if I tried to lend them to a friend. One time I let my friend borrow a copy of The Hobbit. It was such a horror to see it in an ugly and wrinkly condition when she returned it. That was the last time I loaned my favorite collection.

I began to read books critically when I got introduced to the communities of readers. As the literary community in my hometown wasn’t thriving, I found them through the internet. I joined Goodreads and the community of Indonesian fantasy readers’ Facebook group. Involved in conversating about literature made me know about what’s good and what’s not in books which made me more selective in choosing my readings.

There was a list of best Indonesian literature in Goodreads that helped me discover the works of Pramoedya Ananta Toer and Leila S. Chudori. Picking their works out of curiosity, I ended up captivated by them. I was revealed with the flipside of Indonesia’s history which didn’t exist in the school history textbooks. It was a moment of epiphany. It made me aware of how facts could be veiled with layers of immaculate lies that people would receive them as truth, blinded.

Joining the book community had helped me to connect with fellow bibliophiles. I met like-minded friends with whom I could share my profound thoughts. I was also lucky enough to find a romantic partner. However, having a partner who has the same hobby as yours is a bad idea. From my experience after breaking up, books would always remind me of that particular piece of turd which eventually put me into a reading slump for a long time. Yet my love for reading is greater. Even books were the thing that had assisted me the most to heal my scars and to regain my courage.

I have embodied reading with my identity. Reading had brought me to unimaginable places where it became my safe haven. Reading had me dive deeper into the truth of reality and expand my mind to the vastness of the universe. Reading has molded me to be a better person who is more conscious, more loving, and more forgiving. Reading, in the age of Instagram, has been considered as something’s edgy to some people, but isn’t that what makes reading refreshing? While people are inclined to have an attention span that only lasts for seconds, readers could retain their ability to focus for hours just to know whether the author would kill the main protagonist at the end of a story or not. It’s a meditative activity. Once you set yourself in the book you read, you will forget your surroundings.

To be honest, seeing a person who frankly said that they hate reading books is one of my pet peeves. It is a sign of ignorance and apathy. To read means to observe, to know, and to empathize. Nonetheless, this case is contextual. I also have to acknowledge that the availability of reading comes from a privileged place. Not everybody has access to have something to read.

As a reader, I will always encourage others to read books. To be a part of book communities means that I have the power to make people feel what I have experienced in reading. Maybe I couldn’t make them completely enlightened, but I could share some candles that they could light themselves to illuminate their life.