I am a very difficult reader. As I choose the books to read I always try to keep my soul as pure as I can, avoiding all what makes it dirtier. I believe that somehow we get influenced by what we read; it leaves a tiny spot somewhere on our heart that nourishes itself from similar readings and events until it grows bigger and expresses itself clearly through our sayings and behaviors, through our character.
Every writer writes according to his beliefs and convictions. When we read novels or books in order to improve our language level, learn some new information, pass time or for any other reason, and keep finding things that do not match our personality or the way we were raised every now and then, tolerance toward them appears though our apparent refusal. We keep changing slowly and silently even without realizing it. It is not related to the force of our character as much as it is related to getting used to what we meet on a daily basis.
It is to say that some readings change our life positively, but as we will be trying to talk about the importance of choosing what to read wisely, it wasn’t the case for the personage of our story.
My browsing led me to a facebook page in which was shared a story of a Muslim girl. Since I had enough time for an extra activity, I decided to read it out of curiosity. In the first part the girl introduced herself and talked about her hobbies. She said that she likes reading novels, shared some titles with the readers and, somehow, managed to detail one of them. The way she writes confirms that she was an eager novels reader. As the narration goes on, I noticed some unneeded passages that do not represent in any way a Muslim individual. I felt a need to stop reading and so I did. The influence of what she reads was clearly apparent through her writing, and the concept of being held accountable looked to be nonexistent for her. The poor girl forgot about life and death, the Hereafter, the Judgment Day, Hell and Paradise… for the sake of looking like one of her favorite writers. I wonder how many people read her story and how many spots she drew on their hearts. I wonder for how much time her story will stay there welcoming every reader and helping the writer gain sins instead of rewards.
There is a proverb in my place talking about a raven who tried to imitate the way partridge walks, neither he could become a partridge nor could he remember the way he used to walk.
It is primordial to keep in mind who we are and to avoid some texts that even though they contain good lessons, they poison our soul and identity.