Project Bookshelf: Lyndsey Summers

Stacked on, in, and to the side of a black horizontal bookshelf on the floor are an assortment of books.

The first book I ever read was Fun With Dick and Jane. I spent weeks sitting next to my grandmother working through each page, one sentence a day. As soon as I finished that book, I immediately looked for my next one. And the next. And the next. I wanted to read every (picture) book to prove how smart I was to all of the adults I knew.

I eventually graduated to reading chapter books, which was just another bragging opportunity until other kids my age could do the same. My first “book club” was formed in the middle of my second-grade lunch line when I would bond over the Junie B. Jones series with my crush who stood behind me.

I could say I began to love reading from the moment I finished my first picture book, but that would be a lie. I realize now that, back then, I only loved the validation I received from learning how to read.

I really began to love reading when I was in the fourth grade and a few boys in my class introduced me to the world of Percy Jackson. Being ten years old and not knowing how a book series worked, I started by reading the third book in the second series – a fact that drives me crazy to this day.

Enter: my second “book club.” I was one of six kids reading the series together, and we all assigned ourselves to a hero.

I credit Rick Riordan for showing me that reading can create communities. Bonding with people over the enjoyment of a fictional world and its characters is the best feeling reading has ever brought me.

A small desk bookshelf sits in front of a window. On the shelf are books (including Play It As It Lays and The White Album by Joan Didion, Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, Book Lovers by Emily Henry, People We Meet on Vacation by Emily Henry, and Beach Read by Emily Henry.) Also included on the shelf is a Christmas cactus in a light pink pot, a small aloe vera plant in a brown and blue pot, and a pencil holder in the shape of a Greek statue bust.

I proudly became a secondary library to my friends. If our school library didn’t have the book they wanted in stock, I would eagerly offer one of mine to them and ask them for reading updates so we could talk about it. When I graduated high school and lost an outlet for sharing my favorite books, I started an Instagram account where I reviewed books. It desperately needs to be updated.

I grew up in a family that made fun of Harry Potter fans, so I was alone in my love for books. My parents would dread driving into the city with me because they knew I would beg to go into Books A Million. I could have spent hours in the store, taking every single book off of the shelf just long enough to read the blurb on the back page or the inside of the dust jacket – which is something my family learned very quickly. I would be given a time limit to browse the shelves before I had to leave, a new book in my hand or not.

Knowing that I will never have enough time to read all of the books written in my lifetime haunts me more than any ghost ever could.

There are three rows of stacked books pushed against a wall.

In my childhood bedroom, I have a bookshelf that is organized by genre. In my college apartment five hours away, I have miscellaneous books stacked against a wall. If I tried to organize them by color or author or genre, it would be like a Jenga game that ends with my roommates thinking we’re under attack. I kind of like the disorder anyway.

It’s always been impossible for me to tell people about my favorite book or my favorite author. I have so many favorites that make me feel a myriad of different emotions. My favorite school-assigned read is Chronicle of a Death Foretold by Gabriel García Márquez. My most tearstained book is The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller. My favorite romance is Happy Place by Emily Henry. My favorite mystery is The Maidens by Alex Michaelides. If you ask for the book that made me love reading, I’ll tell you it’s The Mark of Athena by Rick Riordan.

A white, brunette woman is turned toward her left and smiles in the photo. A crowded downtown Nashville is behind her.

Lyndsey Summers (she/her) is from the small town of McKenzie, Tennessee, and her grandest experiences live within the pages of her favorite books. She is a senior at the University of Tennessee majoring in journalism and minoring in English and advertising/public relations. She has worked as a general news reporter for her local newspaper, The McKenzie Banner, and is a social media intern for her university’s Student Life department. In her free time, you’ll likely find Lyndsey reading, adding to her Pinterest boards, or curating new Spotify playlists.