quiet-the-power-of-introverts-in-a-world-that-cant-stop-talking-susan-cain

The rest of my family took its cue
from him. In our house, reading was
the primary group activity. On
Saturday afternoons we curled up with
our books in the den. It was the best of
both worlds: you had the animal
warmth of your family right next to
you, but you also got to roam around
the adventure-land inside your own
head.
Yet as a preteen I began to wonder
whether all this reading had marked
me as “out of it,” a suspicion that
seemed confirmed when I went away to
summer camp at the age of ten and
watched as a girl with thick glasses and
a high forehead refused to put down
her book on the all-important first day
of camp and instantly became a pariah,
her days and nights a hell of social exclusion.
I longed to read, too, but left
my own paperbacks untouched in my
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