I lost my love for reading.  Not now, but years ago.  After so many years of reading what people told me to read I started to get a little jaded.  I was sick of talking rabbits and men who took potions that made them crazy, and it seemed that all the contemporary books I got for Christmas were fun, but the magic didn't last. So, sadly, I read only what I was required.

And then, one day, I sat at the Harold B. Lee Library at a little desk against a window.  I was too tired to study my zoology anymore and I definitely didn't want to work on my geology paper, so I threw everything aside and took a chance.  I was in the general fiction area and I randomly chose a Steinbeck novel, purely because the "S's" were so close to me.  The book I selected was Cannery Row (probably because it was short).  I laughed aloud for the first time in ages.  I read it quickly and chose another of his works, then as I finished that, I chose another, then another, before long I had read just about everything Steinbeck had written.  From there I moved on to other authors and actually changed my major from biology to journalism because I realized I couldn't get along without reading or writing about my world.

I owe just about everything I love to John Steinbeck.  In fact, I think I married my husband just because he's from Steinbeck country.