I'm sure that everyone has a personal obsession of one sort or another, a "secret skeleton" hidden deep within his or her closet. Unfortunately, the objects of my obsession won't fit inside any of my closets. They demand their own shelves, and when they've filled those shelves to overflowing, they lay claim to every flat surface in the house. You see, I'm a compulsive reader, addicted to books and other forms of the written word.

Though medical science has never diagnosed me as such, I must openly admit that I'm an obsessive-compulsive reader. If words have been printed, I can't revent myself from reading them. I will read just about anything. Please don't think that I'm always indiscriminate regarding my reading material. When I consciously choose to read, I very carefully select the subject matter. It's the moments that I'm not on guard against my compulsion that it sneaks up on me, and I find myself reading everything in sight. Newspapers, magazines, billboards, street signs, package directions, button labels on electronic equipment, and warning labels on appliances--these are the items I discover myself reading.

This obsession has gotten me into trouble on countless occasions. As a schoolchild I would hold my current novel inside my open textbook, reading it instead of my assignment. When my teacher would catch me doing this, as she invariably did, she would confiscate my novel and place it on her desk. There it would sit, calling out to me, "Lia, come get me. Finish reading this chapter, and then do your schoolwork. What harm can reading one more chapter do?" ruining my concentration for the rest of the day. As an adult I still place myself in embarrassing predicaments at the urge of my compulsion. Other motorists honk furiously at me as I sit at a green light, trying desperately to finish reading a poster tacked up on a phone pole before driving on down the road. Can you imagine how long it takes me to do my grocery shopping? I'm always amazed when I realize that I have spent so much time reading each and every label on the shelves.

Even my family members have lost their patience with me and my obsessive reading habits. In the evenings I'll go into the kitchen to refill my glass of tea, and five minutes later my daughter will ask, "Mom, what are you reading now?" I guiltily drop whatever it is that's caught my eye and walk back into the living room, trying very hard to paste a "Who, me?" expression on my face. Her frequent question, "But, Mom, how long is it going to be until you finish that chapter?" inspires my motherly guilt, but the compulsion is too strong for me to overcome.

I once thought that purchasing a personal computer would help me to break this lifelong habit of compulsive reading, and for a short time it did. Then I received a subscription to CompuServe. Think of it, huge mainframe computers devoted entirely to the written word, updated daily! Suddenly my modem and I were the best of friends. I reveled in 'Grolier's Electronic Encyclopedia,' pored through the 'Healthnet Medical Reference Library,' skipped "page" to "page" in Consumer Reports,' and dipped into several specialty forums. My obsessive compulsion had gone "high tech," and I was hopelessly addicted! From that point forward, my phone line has frequently been "tied up" as I indulged my obsession online.

The only regret I have about returning to college is that it leaves me with very little time for recreational reading. I must concentrate on my textbooks, ignoring my beloved novels. As I sit at my computer, with my back to the bookcases, my books whisper their sweet seductions to me. They call out my name in the voices of my favorite characters, making me feel as if I've forsaken my faithful friends. Able to resist them no longer I'll allow myself the "quick fix" of a Greek myth or an act of a Shakespearean play, justifying it by telling myself, "Well, since they're literary classics, they're college material, and each is so short that it will only take me a little while to finish reading one."

I just can't seem to help myself break this addiction. I'm a"book junkie," and I haven't been able to find a cure. Sure that I couldn't be the only person to suffer this curious affliction, I considered starting a support group for those of us that are compulsive readers. Then, after further reflection, I realized that none of us would be willing to leave our personal libraries at our homes, and that there probably wasn't a convention center inTidewater large enough to hold us and all of our "treasured tomes."

Consequently, I must rely on the kindness of friends and associates to assist me in my battle to overcome the "spell of words" that binds me. If, someday, you happen to see me lurking in the aisles of a Waldenbooks store, a book in each hand, completely entranced by the lovely words, please help me. Tap me on the shoulder, gently remove the books from my hands, point me in the direction of the door, and remind me that my textbooks are waiting at home for me, and that they, also, are composed of the written word. My professors and I will thank you for it!

This page was last updated on - Jan. 1997. "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore!"
Copyright © 1997Lia Wolf-Gentry