I was an avid reader as a child. I read “Death of a President,” a big huge tome about the Kennedy assassination, when I was 12, even though my siblings called me a nerd. My mother caught me reading “The Other Side of Midnight,” a racy Sidney Sheldon novel, at about the same age. It had dirty sex scenes in it and she lost her shit and ripped it from my hands when she discovered I was reading it. I probably just read it because it was there, although I do remember being titillated by the sex.

In any event, no one has been more surprised than me that I have stopped reading books. Once I moved stateside, I got completely immersed in news blogs and websites and that’s all I do all night — just sit on my laptop and read Politico, the New York Times, The Daily Beast, The Atlantic, etc.

My man, however, always has his nose in a book, and I suspect has been quietly judging me. He asked a few times, politely, what the last book I’d read was. I was embarrassed that I couldn’t remember (although when racking my brain, I think it was “The Big Why,” a great Canadian book set in Newfoundland — that’s pronounced NewfoundLAND, Yankees — that I read three years ago). For that reason and many others, I decided I was going to stock up on books prior to a two-week vacation to France and the U.K. I consulted the lovely Lipstick Librarian, and she gave me some great suggestions (Kate Atkinson — read her. Great British mystery writer, and Case Histories was awesome) and I set off on vacation with a very heavy bag filled with books.

And ever since, I’ve had a book going. And I am so glad to be back to reading. I just finished the second Stieg Larsson book, The Girl Who Played With Fire, and I am loving that series (even though I wasn’t crazy about the ending of Book 2). I had almost forgotten just how great it is to have your head in a book, to look forward to going to bed every night so you can curl up, escape the rat race and read. My daughter always has a book going, and I am so impressed with her because of it. A life without good fiction just lacks something.

And so tell me. What are you reading these days? What is the best book you’ve read this year? Let’s share!