Ok, so we’re back to stating the bleeding obvious again for today.
Reading is good.
Yes. Yes, it is.
(And by ‘reading’, I mean the verb, not the place. Although that town in Berkshire is quite nice too.)
What have we but thoughts, and the words with which to express them? By reading more, we gain a better knowledge of our, and others’, thoughts and the ways in which these can be conveyed.
I would also argue that it doesn’t necessarily matter what it is that you read, just that you do read.
As a child I was one of, if not the, best at reading in primary school. I probably am still better than most of the children in my old primary school. But then they are all 11 or younger, so I probably should be. The teachers assumed that I read lots of books. Maybe a few, but the main source of my reading material was – The Beano. I enjoyed it, so I was encouraged to do so. It seemed to work.
Reading can transport you anywhere, without you having to leave the comfort of your chair (or bed, toilet, or treehouse). It can suggest ideas that had no place in your mind before laying eyes on the words upon the page. It can be a source of comfort, amusement, joy, and information. It can leave you in raptures, tears, and bewilderment.
It can change your life.
It can also lead you to read someone’s tiny, insignificant blog, which may, or may not, be a good thing.