I’ve heard all the reasons before for why people don’t re-read books– and I’ll allow each his own– but I really can’t understand it. Refusing to re-read favorite books is, to me, the equivalent of saying, “Why would I want to hang out with my best friend? I’ve done that before, and there are so many new people to meet.”
Can. Not. Fathom.
Did you know that I listen to The Chronicles of Narnia nearly every single night as I fall asleep? They are my faithful bedtime story, and I never get sick of them. I’ve been known to listen to The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe multiple times in a row: I listen, it ends, I start it over, it’s all good. One time I listened to The Horse and His Boy something like five or six times in one month. Every year I plan to keep track of how often I read these books in the course of a year, but sometime halfway through, I lose track.
The Book Thief is always, always a fantastic re-read. The snowman in the basement and the hair like lemons and the sun painted on the wall. This book is one of the novels that changed my life, and returning to it is like returning home, like finding myself in the space where the light flipped on in my writer heart.
I could never tire of re-reading The Last Unicorn. There are lines in this novel that are like friends to me. I could never tire of them. Every single time I re-read them, I feel astonished, as if I just found a diamond resting under a leaf. I would surrender wheelbarrows of unread manuscripts just to make sure that I could keep this one in my possession forever.
Then, of course, there’s scripture– which is the only living and active book I know. I will re-read this one for life. (And, yes, I meant that two ways.)
How about you? Which books can you read over and over and over again? Or– if you don’t re-read– try to convince me you’re sane. 🙂
Image credit: HK.Colin