[Vicki] Reading Biography

Growing up, I had shelves and shelves full of books. My mother never believed in libraries. She always told us that books are for keeps, because one day we’re going to open a book we have read before, and read them anew. We took weekly trips to Times bookstore. In fact, all the books that my older sister had became my infinite library. From Enid Blyton to Brother Grimm fairytales, to Francine Pascal, Ann M. Martin and Judy Blume, to encyclopedias and comics, I had the entire collections ready on my shelves, at my disposal. As a child, reading became a means of transportation. It was an ever-ready tool that brought me anywhere I wanted to go. But by the time I was 9 years old, I stopped reading. In the words a 9 year old would never think of, maybe reading became too limiting, no longer bringing me to new places. Bookstores were no longer interesting. It was then that I turned to churning out stories of my own.


My interest in reading was ignited again when at 12 years old, I found amazon.com. At the click of a button, I had thousands of books I never had access to in Singapore, and I was able to search for books based on recommendations on what I liked. 12 year old and finding Francesca Lia Block and her fantastical stories of rock stars and faeries and nymphs with the gay, the transgender, the otherworldly, the addicts and all the underbellies of society, captured my imagination like never before. From Jostein Gaarder to Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, I found books that are unlike any I have ever read before. I also bought a poetry book from Alloy.com that printed along side poems by teenagers (which I related to so much), poems by Emily Dickinson, Maya Angelou, Dylan Thomas. Inadvertently, I was introduced to some of best poets I have ever read. Online, I was able to find books that were real, that spoke about yearnings and fears and all other kinds of emotions that I myself didn’t comprehend, and that was so precious to me, even though I couldn’t express why then.


By 14 years old, I had found Anais Nin, Truman Capote, F Scott Fitzgerald, e. e. Cummings, DH Lawrence. From Amazon recommendations, I started crawling the web for ‘Best Books of all time’, ‘Best Poets of all time’, and decided I had to read their books even before I knew who they really were. I don’t think I understood the significance of the work they did, but how fascinated I was with the way their words conjured up the most awe-inspiring images. I remember reading Anais Nin, and how she described her lover as a mirage in a desert. Someone who drugged her, but yet gave her strength. And it stuck to me all these while, because I could never figure out how someone was able to create such beautiful imagery. A part of my trying to figure them out, was to continue reading them for whatever they could offer. At that time, I also discovered Beat poetry. I tried to emulate them and write my own poems in free verse.


At 15 years old, when I received a $200 Borders voucher for good grades, I went to Borders and picked books by authors I have never heard of, but had the most intriguing covers. Judging a book by its cover was the best thing I did that day. I discovered Jack Kerouac, Kurt Vonnegut, Sylvia Plath, Milan Kundera. My taste in books had clearly solidified. I didn’t need happy endings, and neither did I need engaging plots and exciting turns of events. All I needed was a writer who was able to manipulate words in a way that could conjure the dreamiest, most fantastical images. 

I would have to say that my interest in books died a little during my JC days. Studying Literature in a way that was almost clinical took most of the fun out of reading for me. I was forced to read books I didn’t care very much about, and forced to dissect them in a logical manner to ensure that my arguments about how I felt about a book held properly. I continued reading the books I have always been fascinated with, and neglected my texts for my A levels.


In University, I found that there were more to books that I had allowed myself to realize. Being introduced to a wider variety of books, from dramas to theories to localized literature, I discovered a new found respect (so to speak) for Literature, in a way very different from before. I discovered Jeanette Winterson, Ian McEwan, Tom Stoppard, Samuel Beckett, who decidedly captured my attention in a very different way that books used to. Theorists like Roland Barthes, Judith Butler and Michel Foucault too. I was able to see literature in a more critical and evaluative way. Although I never found the wide-eyed awe I had for writers I discovered when I was much younger, I started to appreciate them for their critical thought and these are thoughts that inadvertently shaped mine as well. In spite of the kind of value these books have in itself, they were still, merely, books that were necessary in the curriculum, and will never hold a place as special to me as the books I discovered on my own.

Recently, after my graduation, I started revisiting the authors of my adolescent years. I went on a massive book-shopping spree and bought books by authors like Kerouac, Vonnegut, and even Jostein Gaarder, that I have never read before. I have a strong suspicion I might actually start reading the way I used to.