“Mommy I hate it when books end.” Straight from the mouth of my 11 year old, also a fellow read-a-holic.
I know lots of people who in times of struggle or sadness or hardship reach for comfort food. Dishes of their youth or homeland to bring them solace and feed their soul and give them strength. For me (and my two book loving children), we derive our comfort from inside the pages of familiar books. I can read a book over and over and over, never getting tired of the same words. I can literally read the last page and go back to page 1 and start again. I have noticed my kids doing the same thing, reading and re-reading the same few series over and over. I know a lot of people who don’t understand how we can re-read a book when we already know what is going to happen. For me, it is the comfort of knowing what is going to happen that leads me to lose myself again in the story. There is definitely a time for new books and new adventures and heroes and villains, but there are times when perhaps my own life is full enough, and I just need the comfort of a beloved heroine, and her dashing knight and the oh-so-horrible baddie that I know will get satisfactorily defeated in the end. I re-read a bunch of different books, depending what I am feeling I need at that particular moment. Some of my favourite re-reads are Harry Potter, Gone with the Wind, Twilight, Catcher in the Rye, The Outsiders. New additions are of course Fifty Shades and The Hunger Games. There is something immensely soothing about curling up with an old favourite and falling in love all over again with the words on the page…that for me is my comfort food.