Dear Reader,

Reading wasn’t a top priority in our family; I don’t think I was ever read to as a child. It wasn’t as if literature was banned in our house, but the walls weren’t exactly lined with bookshelves. The preschool in our tiny town was held at the local library, and that was my first real introduction to books and being read to. I loved the smells, the colorful spines and the quietness of the library. It was such a relaxing atmosphere that I couldn’t wait to visit it, and it was there that I fell in love with the world of reading.

In elementary school we had the Book Mobile (as there was only the High School Library). A van would come around the school on certain days of the month, and we could check out books. It was such a delight to walk around in its cramped quarters—and the driver was a little creepy. I looked forward to every visit with my finished book in hand, ready for another.

I can’t really recall what books I read, but I’m sure my selection wasn’t very sophisticated, unlike some of my childhood friends that bragged about reading the likes of Ulysses when they were nine years old. In high school my tastes began to advance. My friends were often smarter than I was, and they would recommend books. One book that I remember vividly—and which was responsible for really getting me hooked on reading—was In Cold Blood by Truman Capote. Since we didn’t live that far from Kansas, where the infamous Clutter family murder took place, the proximity added to the mystique and thrill. Every chance I got I would open that book. A few times I got in trouble for being lazy (translation: lying around reading) and was told to get off my duff, set the table, or vacuum the rug. But that book made that horrific murder come alive for me. I would be terrified and couldn’t read at night for fear it might give me nightmares.

When I left home, my first husband, an avid reader and local pot dealer, turned me on to The Beats, Philip Roth, John Cheever and Charles Bukowski—of whom I was especially fond. His work was so honest and hilariously ribald. It was inspiring to find something that I really could sink my teeth into. 

As my husbands accumulated, so did my personal library. I ended up working fulltime in the cataloging department at the Tulsa University Library. I loved that job and found the two main women catalogers that I worked for to be delightfully enigmatic. I was fascinated with their job and hated to interrupt them as they were always so enrapt, sitting in their cubby holes, thumbing through the pages, taking notes. They were so smart and hip and worldly—and well-read. 

I’m still a diehard fiction fan and always have a book going. I couldn’t imagine a world without reading. Every summer we publish a reading issue, just like other publications do with their recommendations. Here are ours, mainly focusing on art. We like to include films too, such as the documentary on Thomas Kinkade reviewed here by Doug Harvey. Kinkade: alcoholic misanthrope, painter of light. How irresistible is that?

No matter what your fare, we think we have an eclectic selection to consider. And don’t let anyone tell you that you’re lazy. Now get off your butt and go visit a library or buy a book—before they actually do get banned.