Acts of Faith

I love to read.

Newspapers, magazines of all sorts, on-line content, but especially books.  Non-fiction, fiction, memoirs, biographies, books of short stories, books of essays, all of it.  I feel slightly off kilter if I don't have a book going that I'm interested in at any given point in time.  As a result, I'll often start two, three or more books until I find one that really grabs me.

Also, I am forever purchasing books that, for one reason or another, pique my interest.  I place them in my bookcases, keep them at work or stack them up next to my side of the bed, always planning on reading them . . . eventually.  Often times, I forget what drew me to a particular book in the first place.

In J.P.'s nook, by the futon, we have a basket of paperback books, many of which I have read but some I haven't.  On top of the stack, for the last few years, sat Philip Caputo's "Acts of Faith."  Strangely, it almost seemed like the book was staring at me each day, reproachfully, whenever I glanced at the basket as I hurried downstairs, on my way somewhere.

A month or so ago, I picked the "Acts of Faith" up out of the basket, took it into our bedroom and started reading it  before I went to bed.  A few minutes ago, I finished it.  A book like "Acts of Faith" is why I read, why I enjoy reading so much.  A book like that moves you and resonates with you and its characters stay with you, like old friends you never see anymore but about whom you have fond memories.