There is a warm July wind blowing through the trees outside my window. The house is still and quiet, nothing but the hum of electricity and my dog’s soft breathing.
It has come to my attention that I am always a few thoughts away from a story, an idea, a scene, but typically just a few too many steps away from a place to write them.
But I think we have heard plenty of my current creative crises. Let us instead visit a topic just as close to my heart: Reading! (everyone pretend to be shocked).
I have finished 10 books this year so far. There was a time that would seem tiny, but to me right now it is a glorious luxury.
This year has been full of children’s books and classics. Which, to me, is amusing because this has otherwise been a very adult year.
I am struck again and again by the power of the right book at the right time. When I needed it most, whimsy found me in the form of Frances Hodgson Burnett. The Secret Garden was delightful, A Little Princess was encouraging, and A Fair Barbarian was just darn funny. Her weakest of the three, by far, but still a fun time. I am now at the beginning of Little Lord Fauntleroy which so far is intriguing and sweet.
And, alongside these shorter fancies, there is still nothing that gets me through the day like a big fat book. Of course, in this case, the big fat book was in my phone because I was borrowing it from a library app, so I couldn’t see it, necessarily, but I could feel it.
Wind and Truth was an imperfect book of grand proportions and by golly I loved it. It crushed me, but I loved it. When I first started The Stormlight Archive I had no idea what I was signing up for. People said it was not the series you should start with when getting into Brandon Sanderson, but I said “pffftt watch me! You think I became who I am by starting with easy stuff??? Please!”
To be honest I regretted my choice about a quarter of the way through Way of Kings, the first book in the series. But once I pushed through I found everything I hoped to and MORE. So much more that I am going to be thinking about this series for a long time, and it isn’t even done yet. It is the kind of story that crawls into your heart and the crevices of your brain and wrenches holes through thoughts, all while inspiring you…and hurting you, in equal amounts.
Wind and Truth marks the end of the first arc of the series. That means there will be five more books, but who know when those will show up?? It is going to be a miserable wait.
But I find it a comfort to have something as delicious as five more stories in that world to look forward to, and even more intriguing to think about how different my life will look as they take form.
That is a magical part of joining journey’s like The Stormlight Archive—they come with you as you grow, as life shifts, and surroundings change. Inner landscapes remodeling and newness flooding over familiarity.
But then there is that common thread to pull on. To sink back into a world that knew you all those years ago. That is also true for rereading old favorites—they remind you of little pieces of yourself from that time, the first time you picked up that story and lost yourself inside of it. They hold on.
Books are great at holding on to things we can’t take with us. They let us visit who we have been.
I wonder what it is I will think about if I ever reread Wind and Truth, or any of the books in this first arc. Will I remember what it felt like to be engaged? To start my new job? Will I think about the candlelight flickering on the dinner table, cups of tea between cold fingers?
Smiles over bowls of gazpacho. The Mentalist theme song blaring out, sharing guesses about who dunnit. Crawling into bed warmed by wine and laughter.
Every book is like a time capsule; even when the book is nothing like the life you’re living, it holds the world that happened around it, too. Somehow, somehow.
That is why I can still feel my mother’s arms around me every time I pick up a Little House book. I can still hear the wild winds of winter beyond the window, and recall the faintly dusty smell of our old couch. I can still see the soft lamp light on the pages, a creamy golden haze. My mother’s voice lovingly narrating as if she never grew tired.
Books hold worlds and realities, and not just the ones written on the pages.
When I’m not reading a book, I feel like I am leaving a hole in my memory. So I make it a point to always be reading something.
If I open A Fair Barbarian 10 years from now, I will remember what it felt like to be a newlywed, and I will smile a knowing smile for both my and Octavia Basset’s sake. I will remember summer morning commutes and Kirkland granola bars. And probably many other things I haven’t even realized are dear and precious will jump out in my mind later on, as they tend to.
But as of now, I am going to take a bath and brace myself for a busy August of being the only person in my department until September, doing everything in my power to keep the plates spinning without spinning my head off my shoulders.
Thank you for reading, and I hope you are having a happy summer.