As a child in the '50's, my parents sprung for The World Book Encyclopedia and kept it in my room. I would sit for hours starting out with a subject in mind but being delightfully distracted by something that would catch my eye along the way. ADHD? Probably, but I learned about Icarus and Daedalus before I was eight.
Books seem to have come to me in a few ways, mandate, happpenstance and subject interest.
Regarding mandate, we had required reading in high school that included "Brave New World" by Huxley and "1984" by Wells. These were hand in hand for that year. In English Lit class our instructor brought in a 33 RPM LP of Romeo and Juliet. We would read along to ourselves as the vinyl spun the audio but the topper of the class was the instructor sometimes pantomiming a scene or getting our attention to listen closely. It was the icing on the cake for further adventures in Shakespeare and leading to works by Chaucer. Honorable mention to Homer and Tacitus.
As a youngster I read Twain's "Huckleberry Finn" and "Tom Sawyer" of course, but ventured no further in his works. One day, by happenstance, I was driving down an alley after a rain and saw a hardback off to the side of a puddle. Stopping out of curiosity I picked it up and found it was a copy of "Roughing It". The book opened a new door for me to Twain's humor which left me seeking more.
Another happenstance was Castaneda, suggested by a dear friend as we would discuss the curiosities of human existence. I'll say that the first three volumes are in my library.
I've always been fascinated by the natural world and Euell Gibbons piqued my curiosity for foraging. I could name, thanks to that encyclopedia, just about every life form that walked, flew, slithered or swam but knew very little about the ones outside the door that make up the most of this world but don't have the ability to flee a fire. So starting with Euell I took a deep dive. I still have "Stalking the Wild Asparagus" which contains a purple thumbprint of elderberry juice placed there accidentally by one of the hippie chicks of our then "household" making up some jam after a forage (thinking she wandered off to join an Ashram in the mid seventies, we moved back to the land). Honorable mention to Virgil Vogel and his "Native American Medicines" and also Grace Firth's "A Natural Year", they both sit well worn.
Being a history buff and living in the Old Nothest Territory I came across Alan Eckert and his Americana series. Good novel type reading inspired by the history and the events of the areas, drawn from first person accounts. Tons of footnotes.
Solzhenitsyn' "Gulag Archipelago" was the last thing I've read. Better late than never.
Thinking I may put Dostoyevsky's "The Brothers Karamazov" on my Christmas list. Thanks Norm!
Speaking of Christmas brings me full circle to the one book my Godmother gave me as a child, which I still read.
Nice to meet y'all.