The lengths people will go to to secure literacy for themselves or their children

Where does one go to forget the real world, to surround themselves with a story so different than their own? I go to my books. I go to fantasy novels, diving into a universe of wonder and magic, some (mis)guided by the Hero’s Journey, but exciting all the same. This all began for me a long while ago, after learning to read. At the time the most I read was what came up on the DS screen, little blurbs about the world of Pokémon, or simple dialogue. After this stage dragged on, my mother concocted a plan to get me to read. She offered to make me eggs in any way I wanted every morning I hadn’t finished the book she wanted me to read. This opportunity was incredible. I was so close to platefuls of omelets, scrambled eggs, fried eggs… Anything was possible. But my mother also knew me (surprise, surprise!) and she also knew I’d accept that deal. It was the summer when I started the book. I had nothing to do and had no friends in the area. So, the morning, after the first plate of eggs, I opened the book on my on the worn denim grey-blue couch, with my two cats curled up beside me, purring, everything else slipped away. From the moment I flipped the first page, lazily reading with my eyes glazed over, to when I was in the middle of the book, ignoring my mother’s call to lunch, the smells of a grilled cheese that could have been mine, I did not move. I kept reading until finally, I closed the book in the evening. I had so immersed myself into the world of Harry Potter that nothing else had mattered to me. Not the sun on my back from the window, not the cats moving about before eventually leaving, not the hunger in my stomach, nor the incessant pestering from my younger sister. I had been immune to all distractions, and instead living in the life and world of a young wizard.

How do you describe what it felt to dive into a new world? I suppose you could say that it’s similar to virtual reality, but you’re creating the world to your own perception. That’s the magic behind books: nobody visualizes everything the same way; however, this can lead to conflict in debating the pronunciation of certain words or spells. What the voice of certain characters sounds like, or even what they look like. I created my own perception of Harry, Ron and Hermione. Yes, they were the characters from the book, but they were my characters as I envisioned them. I was in awe of the world in which magic existed and was scared when (spoiler alert!) Ron sacrifices his own piece to win a brutal, life-sized game of Wizard’s Chess, and Harry must go on alone. I ignored the outside world, and only payed attention to the emotions, thoughts, and actions of the characters in the book. I ignored everything until I turned the final page of the book, hungering for more and more.

I suppose I was okay with only receiving one plate of eggs, in retrospect. Because instead of hot, tasty eggs, I was gifted something far more precious and long-term: the ability to immerse myself into fantastical worlds, observing the actions of new characters, or returning to review the stories of characters I had read and imagined so long ago. Now at the time I might have preferred the eggs, but I was still proud of myself for finishing the first book. I had succeeded by exceeding my parents’ expectations. Did this land me with less eggs? Yes. Was I satisfied? No. I wanted more eggs.