Has it ever happened to you that you closed a book and were sad? Not sad because the story ended badly (I personally try not to read this type of book, though there is no way to know in advance), but sad because it was done. Or have you ever felt that if it had been longer, it would not have bothered you? You were ready for more adventures, more surprises. You would have kept on reading page after page, paragraph after paragraph of a book that maybe was already a noble size.
Two form a fellowship; you and me, we are on the same boat. We live reading, we don’t just consume it. The good news is, there are many others out there.
We already know the end. We are familiar with all the twists and turns of an adventure. But do we really remember every detail? No. Some suggest that after the first read, one only remembers about 20% of a book. What can we do about the other 80%?
Along my reading career, which started like most people at the age of 5, I have loved books; I have hated books too (and these have ended up in the trash can. Yes, you read me, the trash can). Others left me indifferent. These are still on my bookshelf, although how long they will stay there is a matter of time and space. But I have loved books. And when I say love, I mean… loved. They are the books that, when I talked about them, people looked at me and said, “You made me want to read this book!” Ah! Music to my ears; another reader who will discover the amazing story. I won’t be alone! But am I ever alone in this endeavor?
What is it that attracts us and immerses us in a story? That transports us into another world, another universe? Why should we partake in a quest that, although it is not ours, we still want to own and never let go of it? Is it the characters’ personality? Their arc? Why do we identify with them? Is it that they reconnect us with our childhood? Or is the theme dear to our readers’ hearts?
Or maybe, it’s all of this.
There are some books, not among the shortest, actually, that I cannot imagine not reading again. Could I go without reopening the massive brick that is The Count of Monte-Cristo? Could I leave Edmond Dantès to rest on his boat and live a peaceful life across the seas? Certainly not. I have to reopen it; revive the wound of treason, and the healing of a justice done. I have to resee the unraveling of the most Machiavellian plan of justice for a man who survived the worst prison conditions at the Chateau d’If despite the treason, envy, jealousy, and greed for power of those around him. I have to see the green hills of the Shire, smell the scents of a spring evening on the front porch of a door in the ground where lived a Hobbit. I must follow Frodo and Sam on an ink map, crossing forests, mines, and swamps.
There are other books that I read a long time ago. So long ago, I don’t remember anything about them. True, it was that long ago. But I remember this: as I closed the book, I remember the feeling of awe and joy. The amazement of a story that kept me reading at night. “I will reread this book,” were my thoughts. I remember loving it and being touched by it (Cinq-Mars by Alfred de Vigny, Le Bossu by Paul Féval). Movies don’t do justice to the pieces of art.
Others made me cry because one of my favorite characters died in a very heroic way, and I refused to read the end, the last chapter, because the hero was dying. No way! (The Viscount of Bragelonne, by Alexandre Dumas), or whose story was so captivating and fascinating that I could not wait to find out how the hero would escape the situation he was in.
There are also those books that introduced me to another world of possibilities: a new author I can devour (Jane Austen), a new series I can delve into and get lost without looking at the clock, a new enchanted story I can read with my daughter at bedtime (The Chronicles of Narnia).
And there are also the weird ones that made me wonder for a while what I was reading (Piranesi by Suzanna Clarke); still, I was very much in that weird, fascinating house, waiting for the tides to come and go.
I made a list. A list of these books I will reread, one day. When I have time… Should I reread these books when I am done with my TBR? Why wait? A summer vacation or a plane ride will do well. After all, I still have 191 books on my TBR pile. But these books are possibilities. They are not TBR, they are Rs. Read! Return to! Revive! They are stamped with the R of owning the story because, I read it, yes, I did. These books taught me a lot; they changed me.
Is it wrong to reread a book? Not at all. If we remember 20%, let’s increase this to 30%.
So, what are these books? Here is a list of titles that might look familiar. They are found on more than one fan’s list, I am sure:
Jane Austen: Persuasion, Emma, Pride and Prejudice.
Émile Zola: Au bonheur des dames
Tolkien: The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings
Alfred de Vigny: Cinq-Mars
Katherine Neville: The Eight
Alexandre Dumas: The Count of Monte-Cristo
C.S. Lewis: The Chronicles of Narnia, Mere Christianity, The Screwtape Letters, The Reading Life
Lee Strobel: The Case for Christ
Lewis Carroll: Alice in Wonderland
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle: The Hound of the Baskervilles
Daphné du Maurier: Rebecca
Suzanna Clarke: Piranesi
And you? Do you reread favorites or not? If so, I would be curious to know which titles are on your R-List or reread list. Do we share favorites? Do you go by titles or by authors? Because life is learning, life is growing. As time goes on, nothing can prevent us from going back in time and relive emotions that transformed.
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