The First Time I Read The Alchemist I Didn’t Get It
Just yesterday, I heard yet another person talking about The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho.
They were singing praises of how the book changed their life.
I read it a month before going to Costa Rica and had high hopes of receiving some sort of epiphany from it, but sadly enough I didn’t. When my Amazon package arrived, I was so excited that I started reading the book straight out the box. I plowed through it waiting for that wonderful tidbit that would change my life, but the tidbit never came.
Maybe I read it too fast and missed out on the important part.
When I went to Costa Rica, I brought the book with me, hoping to read it again. But I never got around to it and before I left, I gifted it to a friend who was trying to learn English.
After yesterday, I decided I will buy it again.
Perhaps it will be like 4th grade when I plucked The Great Gatsby off the library shelf. I was lost and barely understood the storyline. The next year I read it again and it all made sense.
It’s funny how that happens.
Right now I’m reading more than I have in a long while. I’m working on 3 books simultaneously. Aside from necessary college coursework, before last year, I hadn’t read a good novel in years.
During my childhood, I loved to read.
On school nights, well after my mom thought I was sleeping, I was huddled under the covers with a flashlight and my favorite Nancy Drew novel. At 1 or 2 in the morning, she would come to check on me and gently chide me for not being asleep. Gently, because how mad can you be at your kid for reading a book.
My oldest son didn’t like reading at first.
In Kindergarten he told me he hated reading and I remember feeling appalled but then quickly discovering it was because he was struggling with the lessons in school.
I went on Amazon and bought Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons. Within 2 months he got the hang of it. By the first grade he tested out of his grade level and it’s been that way ever since.
When I checked on him at midnight the other day, I found him with his lamp on…reading. There were tired tears creeping up in his eyes and everything.
It made me smile as I told him it was time for bed.
Kids seem to have plenty of time for those types of things.
Now, being older, it seems like reading is more rush rush. I try to grasp all the gems but don’t have nearly enough time to savor them. Next year, when I have a bit more free time, I am already planning for that nice day at the beach.
Warm breeze, soft sand and a good novel in hand.