Food for Thought

I just finished reading Run For Your Life, by James Patterson & Michael Ledwidge.

I used to read a lot (& I mean a LOT) of true crime books. In fact, I can remember years ago, when my brother and I went to Maui. We kept trading true crime books back and fourth and going to the book store about every other day to buy more. We figured our large, and growing even larger, stack of books would freak out the maids when they made our beds each day, and were somehow amused by that thought. I came to find out that truth is stanger than fiction. Once I had discovered this, I stopped reading the non-fiction crime/suspense books (like James Peterson).

Then finally, and thankfully, I outgrew the phase all together. I realized, not only do I hate the negative nightly news and all it's stories of scary stuff, but I didn't want to feed the words of those true crime books into my brain any more. So I put it all down and walked away.

But for some reason, maybe the summer heat, last week at the library, I picked up the James Patterson book.

It was a quick read. It was sort of like popcorn. The chapters are written in very little pieces. At the end of the chapter I think, "Well, jut one more chapter..." and then the next thing I know, I'm at the bottom of the bowl/the end of the book. Completely unsatisfied. Wondering WHY did I ingest all of that and what good did it do me?

I know I'll eat more popcorn. But I won't read anymore books like Run For Your Life. There's just too many great books out there. Ones that nourish me. Ones that have a lot more of the essential vitamins and minerals my soul needs.

I've just begun reading The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein. I'm not racing though the chapters like I did with the above mentioned book . I'm chewing on all the words, really savoring the flavors, and knowing that I am being nourished...