Whenever you read a good book, somewhere in the world a door opens to allow in more light.
—Vera Nazarian
In last week's book review for 1984 (which you can find by clicking here) I talk about how my husband and I read a book together. It started with 1984, and continued through a few other titles, to today, and Name of the Wind (which I am loving so far, by the way.)
Writing about that first experience with being read to, made me consider, yet again, how important reading is.
I am going to try really hard not to lean into all the facts and figures and proof that children who read find so many more benefits in and out of the classroom. That means I am taking off my teacher hat (which is stuck pretty far down on my head). For the purposes of today's post, I just want to chat about books and reading and just that it matters.
I went through some of my pictures I have taken of my everyday life, and how books are involved. I have included a few of them in today's post.
Why do you read? Or, if not, why not?
What is it about words on pages that mean so much to us? C.S. Lewis said, "We read to know we are not alone." Is that it? Do we pour a book into ourselves, hoping to find some connection to our lives, or our dreams, or our nightmares?
Perhaps.
Or maybe it is not connection, but pure escapism. Perhaps we want to exist in worlds we cannot imagine, to forget for a while our own lives.
For some, that is certainly true.
Or do we read for something in between, some link between connection and escapism, when we see some hint of ourselves and our experiences while we are off in far-off places and situations?
A house without books is like a room without windows.
—Heinrich Mann
I have a confession. Sometimes I will walk into someone's house, usually a random friend of a friend or something, and I will turn into a horrible person.
I judge them.
Not on anything like mess or decorating style; I judge them if I do not see books.
I don't even mean to. And I promise I won't think poorly if you if I walk into your house and don't see books lying around. Maybe you are a neat and organized person. Maybe you listen to audiobooks or read through your ereader.
But something nags in the back of my mind, something that feels out of place or missing.
The books. The books are missing.
On the other hand, when I walk into a room and there are books lying around or stacked up or placed on bookshelves, it is like a home recommending a person. (But I will probably snoop through and have a look at all of the titles; be forewarned.)
I mean, it's not like we won't be friends if you don't have books lying around; it is just probably more likely if you do.
Books have a warmth and a life to them.
A student brought in a classic, vintage book to show me. "You know what the best part is?" she asked, and raised the book to her nose. "Doesn't that smell insanely good?"
A student sniffing a book. I am totally guilty of doing the same thing. I run my hands over book covers, book pages. I photograph books and talk about books and recommend books and argue over books. And yes, sniff books. They are the equivalent of a roaring fire on a cold day, or a glass of cold lemonade on a hot one. They are fuzzy slippers and a blanket and a cup of tea and all your favourite foods that your grandmother used to make just for you. They are your greatest, bravest moments, and your most crippling, heartbreaking. They are all of these little vines connecting people to each other and the world and other worlds, and offering an escape from all that too. They make you think and feel and give a damn - or maybe not.
Books recommend people. I don't care what you read. I don't care genre or year or reading level or anything. I don't care if you read one book a year, or one hundred. But if you haven't found one of those books that you love, please keep looking.
I happen to be very fond of my husband. And one of the very best things about him is the fact that he reads. He reads different books than I usually do, but he gets it.
One of the best quotations about relationships is, I think, the following:
"I know there is strength in the differences between us.
I know there is comfort where we overlap."
- Ani DiFranco
I am not going to pretend to be a wise relationship expert or anything. But I do think that the above quotation is a secret (probably not the secret, but certainly a secret) to a successful relationship. You don't want to be exactly the same as your partner, but you do want to have similarities where it counts. I am fortunate enough to have that; there is strength and comfort between us.
Which brings us back to reading. There is comfort in that we both read; there is strength in that we read different books.
We can - and do - talk about the books we read. He gets that I need "happy reading days" when he makes me tea while I read all day. We discuss books, and recommend them to each other. And when we go on vacation, we pack a lot of books.
Books are scattered all over our ottoman in our living room. There are a few in our bedroom, a bookshelf full in our guest room, and an entire library full as soon as you walk in the door. Our house may not always be neat, but it is full of warmth and words and magic.
"Books are a uniquely portable magic."
- Stephen King
Books make a house a home, as much as family photos on the wall and pets curled up on the couch.
"He that loves reading has everything within his reach."
—William Godwin
Thanks for listening (well, reading...) I could talk about the awesomeness that is books everyday.
What is your favourite thing about reading?
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