Do you know that I’ve started this post somewhere between 4 and 457 times in the past few weeks? [cue: you shaking your fist in frustration, "NO, how could we ever know that from the other side of this blasted screen!?"]
Well, anyway, I have. I’ve read some fantastic books of late and ideally, I’d like to share them with you. But, and hopefully there’s a few [or one! I'll accept just one!] of you out there who understand my trouble.
Sometimes explaining why someone need read a book, why it will stroke their imagination and touch their heart and burn the edges of their soul…well it can be a bit hard.
I’ve got three to suggest — and as has happened before — they all came to me at times that made them remarkably timely/applicable/relatable/you get it and wish I would just pick a word.
So let’s get to it, y’all. Oh also, bring tissues, they all need, like, a million.
1. The Fault in Our Stars; John Green
The only reason I point this out is because he embodies teenagerdom excruciatingly well.
No, no…excruciatingly well.
This book is heartbreaking. Bits and pieces of my heart are lost forever between its now tear-stained pages. I ugly-face cried into it, walked into Taylor’s room and ugly-face cried to her about it. It’s just a whole thing; you should be prepared. It’s about kids and cancer and life and your first love and if that sounds like a lot to take in, you’re right — it is.
Still, you should take it in. You should take it in.
2. Me Before You; Jojo Moyes
“I can’t really explain it. I don’t want to give anything away.” / ”No, it’s better you just…yea, just start reading. I can’t really say anything.” / “Oh, but it’s really sad, you should know that, I guess.”
And while such inane responses were met with blank stares, subtle sighs of indignation and general annoyance — they’re right, you should go in blind.
Oh, also, it is really sad. You really should know that.
3. The Art of Racing in the Rain: Garth Stein
Then I got completely and irrevocably lost in my canine narrator, Enzo, and his story and forgot this maddening fact until I google searched for that image.
But, I digress.
Back to the insides of the book. I love them, those insides. I know I’m a little late and everyone else read it like 2.5 years ago, but here we are – me loving it 2.5 years late.
It has everything: love, loss, family, tragedy, the thrill of racing, the unbounded joyfulness of living, the painful art of dying.
But what it has most, or at least what it has best, is Enzo. That old soul of a dog has much, much to teach us about being human.
Also – it confirms every suspicion I’ve ever had that when my dog tilts its head or looks at me a moment too long, I’ve caught him in a moment of profound thought.