Do words get you hot?

I find it a perfectly normal and admirable condition to be sexually aroused by a well written book.

Hold on, let me skip back a few chapters in my brain, and attempt to explain myself.

I'm not talking about books that are supposed to get you off, I'm not going to do a thorough review on 50 shades (it doesn't deserve one), I mean, just a really really good book. The sort of book with an enticing storyline, realistic and memorable characters, relationships you can feel building and shifting, a book you finish and think to yourself: "well, I feel like being a better person today!" Yeah, we all have one of those, and if you haven't, bloody find one before you turn into a terrible person.

I recently finished a novel called The Paris Wife by the wonderful Paula McLain. It's a recollection of the heartbreaking story of Ernest Hemingway's first wife Hadley and their dramatic journey through their more than turbulent marriage. I love historical novels with real-life characters made immortal through literature. I put down the book seeming somewhat bewildered - I knew what was coming, there are no surprises in the storyline, it's all purely factual - but - it was so personal, so easy to understand events with the psychological state in place.

The young Hemingway

It's a wonderfully well-written piece, and, let's be honest, if you have read it or are reading it, it's pretty much impossible not to fall in love with Mr. Hemingway. I challenge you if you don't. Well, in all, the story is pretty depressing (as you would imagine) but by the end of it, I just felt all hot and bothered. I don't want people thinking that that's my aphrodisiac and start buying me some Charlotte Brontë, but it makes me seek out company a lot more than I normally do.

I've proposed a theory (so, brace yourself); being immersed in the sheer artistic value of a good book makes you feel important.

It's great to be valued so highly, you are a spectator, watching from afar as someone talks to you about their life - no one else - just you. Ohhh, it gives me chills. This elevated sense of self-importance really gives you an ego boost; you are more confident, you carry yourself well, you pick up your feet and talk with such grace as your mind fixates on yourself. It's rewarding to be selfish - we are, after all, incredibly selfish creatures, forced to battle it out in a world together. When someone gives you the honour of peering deep into their life, well, you can't help but be flattered.

The combination of words to make beautiful sentences that give you chills, oh dear, you have not lived until a book has given you bumps all down your neck. There is meaning in all this rubbish I'm typing out right now... Why the hell don't you read more? Words have the power to change lives, to grant wishes, to exceed confidence and gain an understanding in places you've never even dreamt of.

I want to live it. I want to create a world to live in where love and passion and sex are no longer taboos, I want pain and heartbreak at my throat, I want adventure and magic that is seemingly impossible, I want to live a fictional life and die in a fictional world.

Norliza.