I Haven’t Read Fiction Since 2008.
I used to be an obsessive reader of stories. To the point that my parents asked my teachers if I was reading too much (my comic collection was off the scale).
It caused a few problems at school. I couldn’t understand the point of learning joined up writing because words in books were typed. Unfortunately, I couldn’t articulate that thought at 7 years old so I was caned with a ruler across my hand pretty much every time I wrote a sentence. I was so desperate to put some sort of order into my writing that I ended up creating vertical columns of words down the page - have you ever tried to fit the word ‘elephant’ on the line beneath the word ‘as’? I was very proud (until I got caned again).
I did read too much I suppose. I certainly shouldn’t have read James Herbert’s The Fog when I was 11. Or the Amityville Horror. But by then, it felt like I had read all the children’s books in the world - or at least those in my library. I could literally go on Mastermind with my specialist subject as Malory Towers the amount of times I read that series.
So, I was happily living my life, ploughing through all the best-selling classics, reading all the newspapers on my paper round each morning as a teenager and perfecting the art of walking while reading without getting run over.
I just had to have something to read. It didn’t really matter what it was - I even read the Gideon bible once because I was stuck in a hotel room without a book.
But 15 years ago, I had a car accident which changed everything. A lorry drove into me on the motorway and flipped my truck up the embankment, before I landed back down again, facing the wrong direction on the lay-by.
Life really does flash before your eyes, I promise. There was no white tunnel but I did feel broken glass, like glitter, and a sense of huge disappointment that I was going to die just because I was travelling to work. So I decided that I wanted to smell freshly cut grass and see a sunrise again then just went with the flow as I turned over and over up and down the hill. I think I pretended I was on a roller coaster just to get through the screaming part.
When everything stopped, I was convinced my truck was about to blow up - like in the movies, so jumped out of the window (the door was crushed) to safety. I looked at the lorry in front of me and realised what had happened so ran over to check the driver was ok.
With hindsight, it’s easy to look back and think what must he have thought? Having just witnessed the crash and seeing a shoeless (it really does happen, your shoes get blown off on impact) robo-girl walking towards him, without a scratch. He was obviously in shock, that’s why he ignored me when I climbed up to tap on his window to ask if he was ok. However, I thought I must be dead, that’s why he couldn’t see me. I looked around and saw all the people on the hard shoulder who had obviously just stopped and pulled over to call the emergency services. But I thought they must be angels, also killed in road accidents, and I, like them, was destined to spend the rest of my days on the M4 watching cars go by.
This did not sound like fun. And nothing like I ever imagined life after death.
I headed over towards the group of people and asked how long they had been there, and what was supposed to happen next. Would I get to fly to check on my family and friends, would I be able to leave the M4 ever? They replied that the police were on their way and asked if I was ok, was there anyone they could call? Which was slightly confusing - were there police in the afterlife? And why soon after did I join the firemen who appeared, helping them pick up all the personal bits and pieces that had spilled out of my car into a box. Was this really death?
I still thought so, even after I got to the hospital and they had checked me over. Even after I had a bacon sandwich with my boyfriend who then drove me to work. I accepted that I would have to get through this routine day - it was obviously the way you were initiated into accepting you were dead. To be honest, I was just glad I had escaped the M4 embankment of doom and felt lucky to be given one last glimpse of normal life.
2 weeks later, I still thought I was dead and wondering how long this pretence would go on for. When would I get my wings?! At this point, it was suggested I should go to a counsellor. The EDMR worked eventually and I accepted that life was just like usual - normal. I wasn’t dead and should just feel lucky to be alive.
The problem was, I couldn’t read fiction anymore. Every time I picked up a book, it just felt like I was wasting my life reading about someone else’s idea of it. My concentration levels had also massively decreased and I got bored after about 15 minutes of doing anything. So films went out of the window too - double the dilemma, fiction plus sitting still in one place.
Eventually I had to accept I just couldn’t read books. Instead I chose to live my life like everyday was my own story. It wasn’t a dramatic adrenaline fuelled adventure life-changing kind of tale, just a quiet appreciation of the things that I had taken for granted before. Nature, love, kindness, embracing my over-active imagination and being thankful for the little things that came my way.
A couple of years ago though, after a particularly traumatic time, I found myself wishing I could just escape in a book again. It felt weird. I tried my usual tactic of reading Seth Godin but that didn’t work. And then I remembered what the Shayler family told me about audiobooks on a fun-filled long drive north in 2017.
I have now clocked up 30 days, 6 hours and 28 minutes of listening. I have finally ‘read’ Harry Potter thanks to Stephen Fry. I cheat my brain by doing ‘real’ things like washing the dishes or cooking while I listen to ‘unreal’ things.
I think of everything in life as a lesson - this is how the car accident has give me many reasons to be cheerful:
I’m not scared of death anymore because I feel like every day since my accident has been a bonus. This is a great thing to remember when you don’t feel like getting up in the morning.
Always appreciate a sunrise or sunset. This is just a reminder that a new day is coming and is full of opportunity - or conversely, if you’re having a bad day, to remember that a new one is around the corner.
Live your life the way you want to. Do not base it on someone else’s made-up idea of how it should be.
Finally, you can cheat yourself into embracing a new version of life. This is a great hack to remember when you think it’s too late to change or that something will never happen.
Lisa Bowen
If you enjoyed this piece, you may also like The Skin I Am In and Closing the Book