The Mystery of Reading

The Mystery of Joe Durepos

Somedays, I think I owe everything good in my life to Frank and Joe Hardy.

I was born with a congenital eye defect, sometimes referred to as Amblyopia. It’s hereditary, the males in my family all have some form of it. Mine is severe enough that all I have ever been able to see out of my left eye is light. This condition affects my depth perception, and of course my peripheral vision.

With my right eye, the good one, I can’t see in the distance without blurring, this is commonly referred to as farsightedness. With glasses, I’m fortunate because my right eye corrects to 20/20 vision.

With one good eye, you’re a not likely to become a surgeon, a fighter pilot, or a major league baseball player. But with one good eye, you can become an avid reader.

I read the first two Hardy Boys mysteries in a couple of days over Christmas break my third-grade year. After that, I was never the same. I had accidentally discovered the power of story, and specifically, the magic of getting lost in a book. My entire life has been guided by that discovery.

I experienced first-hand at ten-years-old how a book can take you out of your—boring, snow-bound, already played with all my new toys—life.

I still crave that experience of my first reading of The Hardy Boys, which was followed by similar experiences with Tarzan, Conan the Barbarian, Sherlock Holmes and an ever-widening world of beloved characters.

I wanted to call this blog The One-Eyed Reader, but my web designer suggested Half Blind Faith. I loved it, because much of what I’ll be writing about is offered with half blind faith.

One of the stark truths I’ve learned about the publishing business, is that nobody really knows anything.

More on that next time.