Last summer, I promised my two older kids a trip to the bookstore to choose their first summer reads. At 7 years old, Emily eagerly asked if they would earn prizes. “Absolutely!” I replied. “If by prizes, you mean books!” She frowned, “But what if we read a lot? What do we get?” “You get to visit the library many times!” I said. Poor girl was hoping for a toy store visit instead.
Ryan, at 9, was equally perplexed. “Is it a contest? Do we earn money?” He felt it was unfair since the lengthy fantasy series he planned to dive into was way longer than whatever Emily would likely choose. I reassured him, “This isn’t a race. Read whatever you like and let me know all about it.”
Fostering a love for reading is paramount for me. I always want my kids to be engrossed in a book or starting a new one. While they have some freedom in their reading choices during the school year, summer’s laid-back vibe allows them to explore the shelves more freely.
I also keep my own summer reading relaxed. Throughout the year, I feel tied to my to-be-read lists—both the towering stack beside my bed and the digital lists on my Kindle and library queue. There’s a pressure to stick to those titles, especially if I’ve invested money, waited for a library turn, or promised a review to someone. However, during summer, I embrace the spontaneity of choosing books based on instinct, wandering through bookstores, or diving into the latest novel a friend insists I’ll love. My book club even takes a break, leading to three months of reading freedom.
Certain books from my past summers still resonate with me, evoking memories as vividly as a favorite song. After my junior year of high school, I spent a summer in Cádiz, Spain, and read Edith Wharton’s The Age of Innocence. Whenever I hear its title, I’m transported back to the apartment on Calle Ancha, where I lived with a lovely Spanish family. The matriarch, Maria, would serve me strange dishes like tuna pizza and hand me letters from my boyfriend, Alex. I can still recall showing Maria my tears as I read each letter, searching for any hint that he missed me. “I worry things will change when I return,” I confided. “Young love struggles with distance,” she said soothingly, though it didn’t ease my heartache. Her prediction was spot-on; Alex and I broke up soon after school started. Like Newland Archer, I found myself longing for someone I couldn’t have.
The Flowers in the Attic series takes me back to a memorable summer at 14, when I traveled to Toronto with my grandparents. I was reading one of the series while my grandmother, frustrated over something I’m sure I hadn’t done, yelled at me to grab my suitcase and even threw a pencil my way. While her outburst was nothing like the abusive grandmother in V.C. Andrews’ tale, I think of that pencil bouncing off the wall whenever anyone mentions those books.
The novels I read during my college years while traveling through Chile made a lasting impact. Arriving in Santiago in January, which is summer there, meant I had a few months before classes began. Instead of packing Spanish books, I scoured a used English bookstore and found gems like East of Eden, The Handmaid’s Tale, The Chosen, and The Fountainhead. I cherished each of these, especially East of Eden, which felt like a dramatic family saga. In fact, I remember those characters more clearly than the beautiful port towns I visited.
So this summer, how will I choose what to read? I’ll start with my to-be-read piles, but like every summer, I’ll leave room for chance and curiosity. I hope my kids follow suit and relish their extra reading time before the school year’s madness returns.
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Summary
This reflective piece explores the joys of summer reading, highlighting how books can evoke powerful memories. From childhood experiences to college adventures, the author emphasizes the importance of fostering a love for reading in children while also allowing for spontaneity in adult reading choices.