A condensed version of this post first appeared on my Twitter and Instagram in April & May 2023

I have finally rediscovered my reading mojo!

As someone who would read anything and everything as a child, it’s been a source of near-constant anguish and frustration that I can’t seem to engage my brain in starting – let alone finishing – a book. Audiobooks have been my lifeline, but the experience just isn’t the same as losing yourself in a paperback, or the weighty feel of a hardback in your hands. There’s something magical about the smell of the pages, the smoothness of the cover – the promise of a key to another world, and all you need to do is open it up and dive right in.

I’ve bought plenty (okay, more than plenty – if truth be told, I’ve run out of bookshelf) but. I. Just. Cannot. Get. Myself. To. Read. Them.

Even when it’s time for bed, even though I know it’s one of the best things I can do to sleep.

Up until a couple of weeks ago, I’d managed to read a grand total of one book in the past….year? And, if I’m honest, that was mainly down to a very long coach journey.

But, a few weeks ago, a miracle occurred. I found THE book, the one that I wanted to be reading all the time. The one that made me restless whenever I didn’t have my nose in it. The one that almost felt like it was becoming an addiction.

I read it in cafes, with ice creams and coffees. I read it on sunny benches by the river. I read it in hotel rooms. I read it on garden benches. I read it leaning against a lamppost at the corner of the street (no, really, I did). I didn’t want to put it down.

I fell in love with the characters. I gasped, and laughed, and tutted as if I were there in the story. I got the ache of loss when it finished. I’ve still got the characters living rent-free in my head. I’ve been left craving more – needing to know where they all go next.

It turns out that what I needed more than anything was the right book to get my groove back and remember why I loved reading so much in the first place. It quiets my chaotic, ADHD brain in a way that nothing else can.

The feeling of peace was astonishing – even when the story felt far from peaceful. There’s something about the feeling of escape, of losing yourself completely in another world. When you first get caught up in the story and start tumbling down the rabbit hole, losing yourself in whatever new world the author has carved out for you, time slows down and you lose sight of everything else.

I’ve finished that book now, and moved on to another – a totally new place and time, utterly distinct turns of phrase, but still magical. Of course, as summer strolls lazily into view, it’s the perfect time of year to spend my free hours curled up, catlike, in the sun, with a book. But it’s a long-lost love that I plan to carry with me into the autumn, and beyond.

If you’d like to know more about my THE book, it’s The Cuckoo in the Nest, by Fran Hill (published by Legend Press) and – if I hadn’t already made it clear – I think it’s really excellent.