Starting a new book is a risk, just like falling in love.
You have to commit to it. You open the pages knowing a little bit about it
maybe, from the back or from a blurb on the front. But who knows, right? Those
bits and pieces aren’t always right. Sometimes people advertise themselves as
one thing and then when you get deep into it you realize that they’re something
completely different. Either there was some good marketing attached to a
terrible book, or the story was only explained in a superficial way and once
you reach the middle of the book, you realize there’s so much more to this book
than anyone could have ever told you.
You start off slow. The story is
beginning to unfold. You’re unsure. It’s a big commitment lugging this tome
around. Maybe this book won’t be that great but you’ll feel guilty about
putting it down. Maybe it’ll be so awful you’ll keep hate-reading or just set
it down immediately and never pick it up again. Or maybe you’ll come back to it
some night, drunk or lonely — needing something to fill the time, but it won’t
be any better than it was when you first started reading it.
Maybe you’re worn out. You’ve read
tons of books before. Some were just light weights on a Kindle or Nook, no big
deal really. Others were Infinite Jest-style burdens. Heavy on your back or in
your purse. Weighing you down all the time. Maybe you’ve taken some time off
from reading because the last few books you read just weren’t worth it. Do they
even write new, great works of literature anymore? Maybe that time you fell in
love with a book before will just never happen for you again. Maybe it’s a once
in a lifetime feeling and you’re never gonna find it again.
Or something exciting could happen.
Maybe this will become your new favorite book. That’s always a possibility, right? That’s the beauty of risk. The reward could actually be worth it. You
invest your time and your brain power in the words and what you get back is
empathy and a new understanding and pure wonder. How could someone possibly
know you like this? Some stranger, some author, some character. It’s like
they’re seeing inside your soul. This book existed inside some book store, on a
shelf, maybe handled by other people and really it was just waiting for you
pick it up and crack the spine. It was waiting to speak to you. To say, “You
are not alone.”
You just want more of the story.
You want to keep reading, maybe everything this author’s ever written. You wish
it would never end. The closer it gets to the smaller side of the pages, the
slower you read, wanting to savor it all. This book is now one of your
favorites forever. You will always wish you could go back to never having read
it and pick it up fresh again, but also you know you’re better for having it this
close, inside you, covering your heart and mind.
Once you get in deep enough, you
know you could never put this book down.
Gaby Dunn.
(Starting a new year is a bit like
that too. You basically know how things are going to unfold. I mean, it’s a new
year, but you’re still the same you. But are you really? I’ve always thought
the greatest most meaningful changes happen without you even realizing it. You
go on with your life thinking you know who you are, you’ve got the past as your
teacher, but one day a terrible moment of lucidity comes, and I mean that in
the best of ways, and you suddenly realize you don’t like plamplemousse
anymore, or you’re done with Murakami, or some other more important stuff. It
doesn’t happen in the first day of the year of course, maybe it takes a couple
of months or even another year altogether. But it’s there. The seed has been
planted and you’re not the same. You don’t know it. And perhaps that’s really
the beauty of it all.)
No comments:
Post a Comment