How I fell in love with a classic

Upon continuous insistence, I read it.

I was not exactly eager to read it. Why should I be? It was a classic. And Classics are not of my interest.

It was with heavy footsteps that I forced my feet to turn to my bedroom, so that I could read it. There were a lot of things that went through my mind, lots of things that I could have occupied myself with. But I knew that I had to do it. It couldn’t lay in my closet, untouched and dusty. It had to be read.

I took a long time to adjust myself to a position to read the book. It was not a big one, but it was original! And original versions are the worst (best)!

I flipped through the introduction and started reading the first few lines of chapter 1. To tell you the truth, I couldn’t understand a word. I frowned a little, perhaps, before summoning forth all my concentration and read the text again, slowly this time, taking in all the details. It spoke about a land far before the time I was born. It spoke of a life of an ordinary man. It held no interest for me.

I know that I was being mean. I am supposed to read every book considered to be ideal for me. And I am not supposed to form any critical opinion from reading from end-to-end.

I busied myself in reading the text. It was a bit difficult as I hadn’t my heart set on it. But I am it through a little way. But I had a long way to go. I hadn’t even read the first chapter halfway.

Everyday, I read little bits of the book and everyday I found myself wishing for the time to read more, as the story and surrounding and different writing style began to sink in.

I had started by reading just a few first pages of the book per day and I ended it with reading a few chapters per day. And each chapter was comprised of at least 5 pages.

By the time, I had read the whole book; I was in love with it. It was great and the writer had a splendid point of view. I loved them both!

I have not enough space to describe the book in detail, or to tell you about it being fabulous. But I’ll tell you one thing.

The book was “Silas Marner” by George Eliot.