To you dearest readers,
I write on a day with clouds in the sky, gusts of strong wind, and icy rain which provide a heaviness to my state of mind. It is on days such as these I find myself curling up with my current read. Today I was thinking we should discuss the notion of books which were meant to be a part of our lives.
I have always felt that there are certain books which come to us when we need them the most; when they offer us something we might not have even known we needed – or – hadn’t needed till that moment.
Has this happened to you dear readers? Do you have one book which you felt like you needed to have read at one time or another?
I love books. I love reading. But there are times when I pick up a book and it can not hold my attention. I believe it is telling me in a way that it is not its time to be read by me. It is not yet the literary path I need to be on/take.
I tell myself it is okay to put the book down, to pick it up in the future when it will provide the meaning we need it to. Maybe at a better time, when it can suit its purpose for its reader because I truly believe that is what books do: they guide us.
I would love to know your thoughts on this idea. Do you have a book which once you had finished it or maybe even while you were reading it, you knew you were exactly where you were supposed to be? Or it was exactly the balm you needed in your life at that moment?
I continually find myself feeling this way, experiencing that meant to be reading feeling. I would be interested to know if you do to dear readers.
As always I wish you well in your week to come and may you be reading said book and feeling literarily contented.
Postscript: I remember experiencing this feeling with a book by Anne Rice called Tathea which I read when I was in high school. I wonder if I reread it today would I feel the same way.