You know what I love about reading? A million things.
I love getting lost in the story, so much so that the only time I notice a chapter heading passing by is when a big blank space appears, where words should be.
I love the sense of being a character, a fly on the wall, a part of something new and different, that comes from the various POV styles that writers adapt. I don’t do well with 1st person, though it’s supposed to take you into the character’s head and make you feel like them. I much prefer the 3rd person POV, where you can see all sides of the story; how one character feels, in one chapter, then how another character feels later.
I love seeing both sides of a romance, knowing the characters deepest fears and fighting for them to make it through, to get their happily ever after. I love that we, as readers, can know secrets that other characters don’t know, and love the anticipation of waiting, wondering when they’re going to find out and how they’re going to react. I love that kicking of the feet feeling of excitement, when a conversation or action *almost* spills the secret, but a character is too oblivious, not looking in the right direction, or distracted, before they can notice.
I read for the pleasure of reading. Reading, to me, is relaxing, exciting, entrancing and hypnotic. I read to get away from life, to be someone else, to try new things, to pretend that all the chaos of my real life isn’t important for a few hours.
I’ll admit, I’m a read-in-one-sitting kind of girl. If I can read a book in one go, even if it means staying up until 3am, that’s what I’ll do. But it has to be a REALLY good book. There are some books that are good, but not brilliant, that you can read a few chapters and be happy to put it down at night, to get some sleep, then you might not pick it up for a day or two. But I love the books that hook you from line/page one. The books where you start reading and don’t remember where you are or what time it is. The books where you put off going to get a drink, food, go to the bathroom, because you just want to finish this one chapter. Then three chapters later, you really have to run, because you lost track of time. I love the books where you reach the last page and are consumed with sadness and shock, because it just CAN’T be finished yet! It’s not possible; surely there’s more; why did it have to end?
Truthfully, I don’t care how logical or believable the story is. Yes, there are some books where that’s important, but if I can get all of these great, endorphine-surging feelings from a book, I don’t need believability. I need that sense of hunger, that craving for more, the loss and withdrawal of finding finishing. If a book doesn’t have that, then it won’t get 5 stars from me. But, honestly, I’m easily pleased.
As long as a book can suck me into the world, into the character’s minds and make me root for them, to the point of talking to myself, kicking my feet, giggling and grinning to myself, then I’ll give it a 5. The only exception is if there’s a theme/event/scene that I really don’t agree with, or if there were some issues with the flow of the story.
Those are few and far between.