For the Love of Books
My favorite room in my house is my den. It’s the room I spend the most time in, (after the kitchen). I do all my writing here for school, my blog, and my contributions to partnering ministries. In the corner is an oversized leather armchair; a chunky throw blanket is draped over the back. On top of the bookcase is a candle; when I’m in my den that candle is always aflame. I have five potted plants scattered around the room, all thriving in the abundance of natural light coming through the street-facing window. On the walls are various pieces of artwork: paintings of books, typewriters, coffee, everything you might expect to see in a writer’s den. But by far my favorite works of art are the photographs; an entire wall of black and white photos taken of my children throughout the last ten years. In each picture, my kids are reading.
The other day my family was discussing our favorite movies and my daughter asked me if I could list my top five. I ticked them off, one by one: Under the Tuscan Sun, Little Women, Julie and Julia, Freedom Writers, and The Help. (I have many other favorites of course, but if I could only choose five, these would make the cut.) As I named them, it dawned on me that all of my favorite movies were about writers, and all were based on books.
I am a voracious reader of literature. As a child, my parents read to me every night, and when they were away, I’d listen to a tape cassette recording of my mother reading books to my brother when he was still just an infant, cooing and gurgling in the background. My mother’s voice brought me comfort as much as the stories she read. (After years of listening to that tape on repeat, Captain Smudge by Stephen Cosgrove is burned into my memory for all time.) I still know the words of my favorite books by heart, and when I read them to my children I can hear my parents’ voices echoing every line. Even though my children are more than capable of reading on their own, they still request I read to them every night. I happily oblige. I know they will carry our bedtime stories with them far into adulthood just as I have done. It warms my heart when they pick a favorite book we’ve read no less than a hundred times because they love it just as much as they did the first time they heard it. I remember certain books I read over and over as a child. I read them so many times the covers were worn and the pages yellowed. The characters are still imprinted in my heart. I visit them in my memories, like old friends catching up. (The Babysitters Club and Christy Miller series come to mind immediately, both vital pieces of my adolescence.) My Aunt Karen faithfully fanned the flame of my love for reading by sending me books for every birthday and holiday while I was growing up. I want to be that aunt for my sweet nephew who is several years younger than his cousins, so I purchase copies of my kids’ favorites and send them on to him every chance I get.
Any of my friends will tell you I dole out book recommendations like candy on Halloween. I’ve also been known to befriend total strangers when I see them reading a book I’ve enjoyed. Last summer I was floating down a lazy river at a hotel resort when I spotted a woman reading The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah. I couldn’t help myself. I called to her as I glided past on my inner tube, “Oh my gosh that book is fantastic! Kristin Hannah is hands down my favorite fiction author! Have you read any of her other books?!” The stranger grinned at me and we chatted about Kristin Hannah until I was no longer in range. When I circled back around the river we picked up our conversation. I love meeting fellow book nerds.
In elementary school, nothing excited me more than a book fair; tables upon tables of new books with shiny covers, all calling my name. I remember walking up and down the aisles with an envelope of dollar bills from my mom and thinking I had reached the pinnacle of childhood. Even now when my kids come home with a Scholastic Book flier I get just as excited as they do. Ever since I was young I have been drawn to bookstores like a moth to a flame. I would browse the shelves and soak up the smell of fresh print for hours on end. When my kids came along I dragged them to bookstores as a way to kill time or get out of the heat, but they soon fell in love with the atmosphere too. We’d attend storytimes, work our way through the recommended reading lists and cozy up in the corner of the store with our coffee and apple juice, content to invest our entire afternoon between the shelves. We rarely left without purchasing at least three new titles. I admit I still find it painfully hard not to spoil my children with books. I buy them books for Tooth Fairy gifts, last-day-of-school surprises, summer activities, stocking stuffers, St. Patrick’s Day (which we don’t even celebrate), you name it. I’ll use any excuse to bring more literature into this house.
For Providence, Justice, and me a trip to the library is just as exciting as a trip to the aquarium, (and cheaper). Just last week we came home with no less than twenty books between the three of us. We sat on the couch for a solid two hours and dove into our exciting new finds. It was blissful. I’m so grateful to be raising bookworms, just as my parents raised my brother and me. I love that Providence and Justice are happier about a new set of chapter books than a Lego set. I love that they’d rather listen to me read aloud than watch a television show any day. I love how much they love words.
In fifth grade, my favorite princess was Belle from Beauty and the Beast because, like me, her idea of the perfect romantic gesture is being gifted a library. Belle is my daughter’s favorite for the same reason. Like Belle, Providence always has her nose in a book, whether she’s in the car or standing in the school pickup line. One of her current favorites is The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore, by William Joyce. The story begins, “Morris Lessmore loved words. He loved stories. He loved books. His life was a book of his own writing, one orderly page after another. He would open it every morning and write of his joys and sorrows, of all that he knew and everything that he hoped for.” Providence and I read those words and we both get a warm, fuzzy feeling in our hearts. If you love books as we do, you understand.
My daughter is becoming quite the fiction writer, and while I stick to writing non-fiction myself, we have bonded over our shared love for the written word. She’s reading a thrilling fiction series right now and I smile every time she lets out a gasp when she hits a plot twist, or a groan when her favorite character betrayed her trust. She’s learning what it means to write a good page-turner, a story that draws the readers in and evokes deep emotion. When we read through the Harry Potter series together last summer, (the first time for both of us) our hearts were often in our throats and our knuckles white as we followed Harry, Ron, and Hermione through the twists and turns of their adventurous years at Hogwarts. When Harry’s owl, Hedwig, was killed, Providence cried. When Dumbledore fell to his death from the astronomy tower, I choked back bitter tears. When we completed the final book, we looked at each other with a lost expression in our eyes. “What now?” we asked. It was as if we’d stood on Platform 9 and 3/4 ourselves and waved goodbye to our very dear friends. But that’s what’s so wonderful about books; you can pick them up and revisit them over and over again. I love this excerpt from my favorite book, The Reading List, by Sara Nisha Adams:
“As he got closer, Mukesh could see Priya was reading Little Women. Again.
‘Beta, you already read that?’
Priya nodded. ‘I know- but it reminds me of Ba. I just hear her voice. Plus, Dada, Ba always told me that sometimes when you really like a book, you need to read it again! To relive what you loved and find out what you missed before. Books always change as the person who read them changes too. That’s what Ba said.’”
It shouldn’t surprise you that my favorite book is called The Reading List. Another author sang its praises saying, “If you love books, read this. If you love people, read this. If you love crying with sadness, crying with happiness, and feeling like you have been wrapped in the blanket of someone else’s life, read this,” (Debbie Johnson). I couldn’t agree more. The story follows a young woman who works at the local library, and an older gentleman who is grieving the loss of his deceased wife. They, along with several other library-goers, are brought together by a mysterious reading list left behind by someone anonymous. Copies of the list find their way into the hands of this mixed bag of people, and in the pages of the books, each of them finds exactly what they need: community, comfort, inspiration, solace, and friendship. In the book, the creator of the reading list describes it this way: “They were all her favorite books, the books she had grown up with, the books that had found her at the right time, that had given her comfort when she needed it, had given her an escape, an opportunity to live beyond her life, an opportunity to love more powerfully, a chance to open up and let people in.” I finished The Reading List over a month ago, but I’ve been thinking about what books I would put on my reading list ever since.
I’m sharing my reading list here, (okay, lists, plural) and if you’re a self-proclaimed book nerd yourself (or even if you’re not), I’d love to see your list too. Some of my favorite books were recommended to me by a friend so I always welcome the suggestions of others. I’d love to know what books resonated with you as a child or pulled you out of a seasonal slump. I want to know what literary characters feel like family to you, and what book had you hanging by the edge of your seat. What book do you never tire of? Feel free to share your list with me in the comments, through an email, or by message on social media. I’d love to share additional recommendations with you as well, just ask! In the meantime, happy reading. Here are my reading lists:
For Fellow Book Lovers
The Yellow Lighted Bookshop, by Lewis Buzbee If you’re like me and you’re grieving the decline of brick-and-mortar bookstores, you’ll love this one. It pays homage to the corner bookstore, the ones with the creaky floorboards and stray cats who wander among the shelves. These little hometown shops are homing beacons for all of us who love to get lost in a good story.
The Storied Life of A.J Fikry, by Gabrielle Zevin This story of a bookstore owner is funny, moving, and mysterious. I loved every bit of it.
The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek, by Kim Michele Richardson Traveling librarians on horseback? You betchya. In the backwoods of Kentucky, it was the only way to get literature into the hands of the poor in the 1930s. This beautiful book is based on a true story.
The Reading List, by Sara Nisha Adams The perfect book for library lovers, book club members, and every reader in between.
My Reading List
The Nightingale, by Kristin Hannah There isn’t a single book of Kristin Hannah’s that hasn’t enthralled me. If you're not a big fan of fiction, I’d encourage you to start with something, anything, written by this gifted author. The Nightingale, more than any of Hannah’s other novels, left a permanent impression on me.
TrueFaced, by Bill Thrall This book changed the trajectory of my life. God used TrueFaced to convict me of some serious sin issues and I’ve never been the same (hallelujah)! If you long to be authentic and free, pick this book up and don’t look back.
I Married Adventure, by Luci Swindoll When I was struggling in my season of singleness, Luci Swindoll gave me such encouragement. Luci is a beautiful, God-fearing woman who embraced her singleness and maximized every day for God’s glory by finding the FUN!
The Book of Longings, by Sue Monk Kidd Though the author is not a believer, nor is this book considered to be “Christian,” I appreciated the attention it drew to Jesus’ humanity. It’s easy to forget that Jesus while being completely God, was also completely a man; a man with a sense of humor, a drive, a family, and an agenda. I learned so much about the culture of Jesus’ day and the expectations that were placed on him as a Jewish carpenter. I fell in love with Jesus in a whole new way because of this book.
Leaving Time, by Jodi Picoult I was gripped by this story chapter after chapter, marveling at the emotional intelligence of elephants and the bond between a mother and daughter. The ending is one I never saw coming.
Lilac Girls, by Martha Hall Kelly I’ve read much historical fiction based on World War 2, but this one put those horrible years in fascinating perspective. Lilac Girls follows three women during the war: one in Polish, one German, and one American. Their experiences are drastically different, yet their stories intertwine in a deep, unimaginable way.
7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess, by Jen Hatmaker Seven months, seven categories, seven calls to edit your life down to only what you need. I have gone through this book twice in the last five years and each time my world has been rocked. The conviction of Hatmaker’s call to fast and purge is inescapable. I have minimalized every area of my life and learned how to better steward my food, resources, and material belongings. Are you ready to try it?
The Shadow of His Hand, by Judith Couchman In every season of loss, discouragement, and disappointment, I have found comfort and solace in the pages of this book. I’ve read it no less than six times and I will undoubtedly pick it up again in the future.
My Childhood Favorites
The Little Mouse, the Red Ripe Strawberry, and the Big Hungry Bear, by Don and Audrey Wood
Miss Rumphius, by Barbara Cooney
Kingdom Parables, by Christopher A. Lane
The Tale of Peter Rabbit, by Beatrix Potter
The Quilt Story, by Tony Johnson and Tomi dePaola
My Children’s Favorites
In My Heart: A Book of Feelings, by Jo Witek