A week into our life together, I pulled out a book and started to read. I didn’t own a television so Kate, who at 22 had never read a book without coercion, asked, “What am I supposed to do?” So I rummaged around on my shelves, pulled out Cat’s Cradle, and handed it to her. Ah, the perfect starter book. “Here, try this.”
Today, coming up on 36 years later, Kate is an avid reader – and we still don’t own a television. She’s also my most consistent critic, reading every word of every revision that I write. Giving me feedback in colored ink and gently bitching at me if I’m late with the next chapter. She’s recently discovered erotic romance and so she walks around, carrying a book sporting a suggestive cover, in a state of . . . what’s the technical term? . . . perpetual horniness.
Happy Valentine’s Day. Forgo the chocolates and give your Valentine a book.