When books are more than just books

As I continue reading Lord of the Rings, I am getting further and further drawn into Middle Earth. My love for Sam Gamgee is growing very quickly, and I got chills while reading the stories told in the Counsel at Rivendell. Seriously--chills. I could think that I shouldn't have put off reading the book for so long, but on the other hand, I wonder if I needed to be where I am now to enjoy it as much as I am. It's been long enough since I've seen the movies that nothing from them is fresh in my mind (besides remembering Orlando Bloom as Legolas...), so I feel untainted as I read. I just came off reading another fantasy book that set me up for reading about lands unfamiliar to anyone but fans of the books, which prepped my brain for reading a lot of names of places that only exist on a hand-drawn map in an appendix. It also helped, I think, that I was ready to read a book that went into more detail about the fantastic journeys of the main character--if you remember from my last post, I mentioned that as one of the few things I didn't enjoy about A Wizard of Earthsea. I wanted more details from it, and Lord of the Rings gives me more detail about its story and characters. A lot more detail. So my brain and my book soul are happy.

It amazes me that we all have those books that we have to read at just the right time to really get the full impact of them. I have several books that sat on my shelves after buying them for a long time (or that sat on my books-to-read list for a long time), only to get picked up at just the right moment for me to enjoy them most. Books included in that category are Rebecca (Daphne du Maurier), The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake (Aimee Bender), Garden Spells (Sarah Addison Allen), Lake of Dead Languages (Carol Goodman), The House at Riverton (Kate Morton), The Secret History (Donna Tartt), Water for Elephants (Sara Gruen), The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows), Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen), and The Inner Game of Stress (W. Timothy Gallwey)--among other great books. These--and others like them--are then the ones that I often talk about most and share most freely with friends. And yet they're often the ones that take me the longest to pick up.

I think that avid readers--or maybe it's just me--have a sort of book ESP. We know when we pick up a book or choose one from the store that it's going to change the game for us. Maybe the book is going to make us look at life differently or at other books differently. Maybe the book is that comforting friend we may need in a time of craziness. Maybe that book will serve as our private moment of escape when we need it most. Because of that special little bit of knowledge that largely remains unconscious, we avoid picking up the book until the right moment--whether it's a week or three years down the road. Then, when we do read it, it becomes a part of us. I can't look at some of the books on my shelves without being taken immediately to the feelings I had when first reading the book. I can't part with most of my books (even though books are heavy to move, and we seem to move a lot) because, to me, they are more than just books.

I also acknowledge here that I don't get that feeling about all books that end up becoming very special to me and were, in fact, impulse purchases that I read immediately after buying. The Help (Katheryn Stockett) and The Thirteenth Tale (Diane Setterfield) are examples of books like that. However, maybe that impulse is the same as the impulse I get to read a book I already own--maybe it's all connected.

I think people who read for the love of reading have a very special connection that non-readers just can't understand. That's why my husband can't figure out why I get miffed when I'm interrupted mid-chapter in a book that I've been buried in all day. That's why people don't always understand how hard it is for me to put down a book in the morning to start working on things that actually have to get done. Books feed my soul. And the really good books--the ones that touch me most--become a part of me. The characters cease to be words on pages and become role models, friends, stories of my own past.

That's some deep thought for a Wednesday morning... It's also completely different than what I had intended to write when I sat down to type a post. Funny how those things work.

Helped by "The Help"

I've often thought that I need to be or do something more in life to matter.  I feel like being me isn't enough, but I'm not sure whose expectations I'm trying to live up to.  No one has ever explicitly said I need to do anything more than what I'm already doing, but sometimes I wish someone would tell me exactly what was expected of me so that I could feel like I'm working on fulfilling my purpose rather than wondering what that purpose is.

A couple months ago, I was perusing books on my Kindle, and Amazon suggested a list books for me based on my reading interests.  One of the books on the list was The Help by Kathryn Stockett.

I didn't immediately buy it because, at that particular time, I was trying to be thrifty by only getting the free (or nearly free) books.  Yet something about the book and its synopsis kept me going back to its Kindle page every day for three days.  So I downloaded a free sample, thinking, "What could it hurt?"  Two pages into my free sample, I bought the entire book.  Once I started reading, I couldn't stop.  Even when I didn't physically have the book in my hands, the book was still alive inside me because I thought about the story and its characters as if they were my dearest friends and I were a part of everything going on.  I wondered what the characters would do next, what I would say if they asked me for advice, what I would do if I were in their shoes...

I found ways to connect with the three main women in the book, Skeeter, Aibileen, and Minny, even though I shared little in common with them on the surface.  They were living in Mississippi in the 1960s; Aibileen and Minny were both black maids; Skeeter was a young white woman who had been raised by a black maid; they were all tired of the status quo; they became inspired by the Civil Rights Movement.  As someone who has never visited Mississippi, lived during the 60s, or had a maid or known anyone who had one, how is it that I could feel like I was a part of their story?

Part of that connection is due to Kathryn Stockett's amazing writing.  Her words provide dimension for the characters so that they can step off the pages and become living, breathing souls.  She writes the book in sections, writing the different sections through the eyes of one of the three main characters.  A couple of quotations to show off her writing style follow:

My face goes hot, my tongue twitchy.  I don't know what to say to her.  All I know is, I ain't saying it.  And I know she ain't saying what she want a say either and it's a strange thing happening here cause nobody saying nothing and we still managing to have us a conversation.

I always thought insanity would be a dark, bitter feeling, but it is drenching and delicious if you really roll around in it.

If the book were simply a well-written one, I would have liked the book but not become a part of it.  I would have relished the book as I read it but not chewed and digested each passage.  The book was more than a good book--it became one of my favorites before I had even finished it.  Skeeter, Aibileen, and Minnie inspired me because they were able to accomplish a quiet triumph by simply being themselves and doing what they did best right where they were.  Reading about their lives helped me realize that I can make a difference in the world--and serve a purpose--by not worrying so much about living up to expectations but rather turning inward and reflecting on what I do best.  And then doing that.

I will never be a politician who can fight injustices of the world by promoting better laws.  I will never be an ambassador to the UN.  I will never be a doctor who saves people's lives.  I will never be a multi-millionaire who can spend money financing expensive charitable deeds.  Skeeter, Aibileen, and Minnie taught me not to focus on those.  They taught me to focus instead on the other side of the proverbial coin: what I am.  I am a teacher in a position to inspire college students.  I am a writer with the desire to share my love of reading and words with those around me.  I am a woman of many relationships: daughter, sister, mother, wife, friend.  Those are the things that matter.

The book's message reminded me of Gilda Radner's autobiography, It's Always Something, which details her life in comedy and her fight with cancer.  Gilda writes, "What I've learned the hard way is that there's always something you can do.  It may not be an easy thing to do, but there is always something you can do."  The three ladies in The Help found the something they could do and, in turn, helped me to start searching for, acknowledging, and actually attempting the small somethings I can do without worrying about the things I can't do.

Happy reading, and happy searching for your somethings.