I genuinely prefer books to most people.
When living breathing humans disappoint, I turned to my fictional friends. Always have and always will. My sisters will gleefully regale you of the time I sat on a hill in our backyard, in the pouring rain, reading a book. No doubt I was angry over something supremely tween-angsty. The point is, since youth I’ve preferred books over people and will often go to great lengths to get a good read in. I’ll take a day in bed with a nice cup of Earl Grey (3 sugars, 2 splashes of milk) and my favourite copy of The Bell Jar over interacting with society any day.
My books mean the world to me.
Harry Potter changed my life. It gave me hope and these absolutely brilliant characters to daydream about and more than that, it gave me a community of weirdo’s to belong to. As a nanny, my greatest accomplishment (by far) was instilling a love for J.K. Rowling in the children I looked after. Watching G’s face light up as he read the final words of Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows (“All Was Well”) MAY have brought the tiniest of tears to my eye.
The Bell Jar and Girl Interrupted reassured me that I wasn’t broken beyond repair; there was a bright future waiting for me if I just accepted my diagnosis and continued down the path of recovery.
Alice in Wonderland continues to provide me a reprieve from the mundane reality of adulthood.
Anything by Nick Hornby will be read from start to finish within a few consecutive hours. Sophie Kinsella makes me giggle with her silly and shockingly realistic portrayals of modern day romance. Louise Renisson (and the ridiculous Georgia Nicholson) taught me how to conquer The Bakery of Love and instilled in me a great desire to become English. Gillian Flynn has me checking for monsters under my bed before shutting off the lights.
And as for Jane Austen, well Jane Austen is my dearest and most beloved friend.
So you see, I’m not quite sure where I’d be without my darling books. I hoard them, treasure them, underline my favourite passages and give them as gifts to those I love.
There is no greater gift than a well-thought out book.
(except for maybe some biscuits to go along with it)
So I’m curious internet – what is a book that has had a profound impact on your life?