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.