There was a long book series in my house called "Bomba the Jungle Boy," which was a poor imitation of "Tarzan," in the same vein--except in South America. Twenty volumes, filled with excitement, danger, wild beasts, and heroism. What more could a young boy want! Only later did I realize that along with the thrill of adventure came blatant racism and sadism. Regardless, those books are what made me a reader.
I didn't start reading for pleasure until I was a bit older. (Not that my Mom didn't try to get me interested in the Hardy Boys.)
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