This post is a response to the Wednesday prompt for Book Blogger Appreciation Week, a truly awesome celebration of book bloggers and book blogging that comes around every September.
For such a simple question — What does book blogging mean to you? — I’ve had an awfully hard time coming up with a coherent answer to today’s prompt.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about where I was when I started blogging, just a few days before my college graduation in May 2008, and where I am today — through college graduation, graduate school and my first jobs as a grown up. Because I’ve blogged through such a formative time in my life, I can’t really think back to a point when I was a reader but not a writer. During my four years of college, I can’t remember reading for pleasure or outside the classroom much, and I’ve been blogging what I read since I graduated. I’ve been a voracious reader since I was a kid, but it’s been so long since I was just a reader, I almost can’t imagine what that is like. Book blogging is so tied into my identity that thinking about what it means feels like an almost existential question.
Because of book blogging, I always have more books to read than time to read them. I can rattle off many of the books coming out in the next month, even the ones I have no interest in reading. I can’t go to the library or a bookstore and peruse the shelves without knowing of at least one person who has read that book or that author or that genre. I have tried to read for 24 hours straight. I’ve traveled to New York by myself to meet people from the Internet.
These things are a result of what many, many other book bloggers have noted in their responses today — a big part of what makes book blogging such a wonderful thing is the community. After four years, I honestly say that many of the bloggers that I’ve gotten to know are among my true friends. I’m so deeply grateful for that unexpected side effect of starting this blog.