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My grandmother lived in North Jersey which meant regular trips up the Jersey Turnpike throughout my youth, most of which were punctuated by my father exhorting me to put down my book because I was missing life. (Did I mention we were hurtling up the Jersey Turnpike?) Which I've paraphrased for our latest Quirky Question. I thought it might be interesting to swap responses and, perhaps, anecdotes on trials of traversing life with the librically challenged. Do you now or have you had people in your life who just don't understand the time you spend reading?

And as a side query... Have any interesting tactics been employed to get you to put down your book?

Renee I am totally with you there. I have been asked not to read by my parents, uncles, aunts, cousins. I have been considered the family bookworm for decades. Even now when someone is talking about another reader, they always compared to me. But no one has tried to stop me, maybe they just felt I was beyond redemption.

I would go to family reunions (as a child) with a book. I always enjoyed the book more than the reunion, and it cushioned me from people as I'm very shy.

I had my exercise class tease me about how much I read as I would always talk to them about what I was reading (I was the exercise class instructor back in the day). They challenged me to keep count because they said I read more than I thought. They were right. I was shocked at the number of books for the year.

Nobody has ever tried to stop me. I had a great-aunt that bought me lovely editions of children's books. I had no restrictions on what I might read so found Jane Eyre and Withering Heights by myself instead of required school reading.

One last funny story. Back in the day, when you could read your entire Dick and Jane book, you were allowed to take it home overnight (normally you couldn't) to show your family you could read. I was so excited that I read again and again and again and again the book to whatever family member I could corner. When the family got tired of listening, I crawled under the kitchen table and read for a long time to the dog ;-). Always have been and will be a reader. Thankfully there is no cure

That's such a great story, Deb! (For the exercise class... Are we talking yoga or Jane Fonda?)

Renee wrote: "That's such a great story, Deb! (For the exercise class... Are we talking yoga or Jane Fonda?)"

Jazzercise. I taught it for 11 years. From 2000 to 2011.

That is a lovely story Deborah, especially reading to your dog :0)

I'm beyond cure too. People who know behave as if I'm indeed 'ill' - "oh you know, she is a reader...". The pure look of incomprehension when they see the amount of books I have.

My parents, both non-readers, were always perplexed by me. I must have been this weird alien cuckoo to them, with her nose forever in books. Actually my dad used to say that I didn't read books, I ate them! Yes they did try to stop me, restricting my access to the library, but it obviously didn't work. I'd use all my pocket money or get my 'grandad' to supply me (it is an addiction). My husband is not a reader either but he respects me and my (literary) obsessions, the same way I respect his interests. He does sometimes raise an eyebrow at the amount of books I get (yes I do sometimes smuggle them in my bag), or when I said I was going to study literature during my spare time for fun LOL. I think he is quietly proud of his bookworm of a wife :0)

Veronique wrote: "That is a lovely story Deborah, especially reading to your dog :0)

I'm beyond cure too. People who know behave as if I'm indeed 'ill' - "oh you know, she is a reader...". The pure look of incompre..."

Veronique - My husband is also not a reader. Your experiences really ring home with me as I have done the same. He has said no more books, yet I have found him telling his friends about how much I read.

I am very glad I grew up in a family of readers. All the walls were (are) covered with bookcases full of books and my parents would help my "addiction" by paying for all the Scholastic books I wanted. I would come home with the order forms and check off all the books i wanted; Mom and Dad would give me a budget and then I had to go back and cut out some of the books, but that was alright. I began to limit the books I bought that way when I was the only one who got a pile of books while my friends would get one or two.

My husband is not a reader though and we sometimes have disagreements about whether reading is actually "doing something". He says I'm not busy or I'm not doing anything when I've got my face in a book. It's a slow education but he's slowly coming around and seeing that, for me, reading is "doing" something.

Catherine wrote: "I am very glad I grew up in a family of readers. All the walls were (are) covered with bookcases full of books and my parents would help my "addiction" by paying for all the Scholastic books I want..."

My experience too. Fortunately I had a lot of friends in the close knit neighborhood and we got outdoors a lot, so I didn't always have my head buried in a book, but I read endlessly at night, with a flashlight under the covers after lights out. I was surrounded by books and readers, and books and clothes were about all I ever got for Christmas and birthday. I had lots of aunts and uncles in England who always send my sister and me a book for each Christmas and birthday. England had great children's books in those days, and we got most of them.

I don't think I've ever run across anybody who told me to put down a book (except, of course, for when the nurse or doctor or dentist of physical therapist are read for me, when I have to put down the book I am always reading in the waiting room even if only for two minutes.)

Deborah wrote: "My husband is also not a reader. Your experiences really ring home with me as I have done the same. He has said no more books, yet I have found him telling his friends about how much I read..."

:0) Funny, isn't it, that 'hidden' pride. I think mine, with his dislexia and problems at school growing up, never got that feeling you get when the words disappear off the page and you just absorb the story like a film in your head. He understands however how I experience it.

@Everyman and Catherine
You lucky you!
I agree England has an amazing literary wealth. Growing up I loved all the franco-belgian comics, Jules Verne, and the Countess of Segur. It is a pity she isn't known here.

I used to read in school - despicable, I know... Particularly in Chemistry class, which I couldn't stand. I'd place whatever novel I was reading at the time in my lap, underneath the desk so the teacher couldn't see, while the Chemistry textbook was open on top of the desk and under my nose.

I remember this one day when I was so completely into my novel that I didn't notice when the teacher walked up to me, took it out of my hands and flung it across the room. It landed in the gross sink that was used for experiments. Fittingly, the book was 1984, and it must have been some suspenseful part because I remember that I just jumped when I looked up to see my ugly teachers' face looming over me like some elderly, white-haired female version of Big Brother.

Dee wrote: "I used to read in school - despicable, I know... Particularly in Chemistry class, which I couldn't stand. I'd place whatever novel I was reading at the time in my lap, underneath the desk so the te..."

I had to laugh at your experience reading during Chem. I never tried that but i did read at the beginning of each class and the teachers often had to tell me to close my book as class was starting. I always did, but reluctantly.

That's a funny and disturbing story about the chemistry teacher, Dee.

I too used to read during class sometimes, and I would often use the light from the hallway to read after bedtime. I still carry my Kindle or a book with me everywhere. I would never want to be caught without a book!