The above article made me smile and it got me thinking about my lifetime of books both favored and loathed and the jumble of titles between.
The author’s experience of revisiting books of her youth to find she appreciates them more now strikes a chord. It’s true that I’ve reread books that I found tedious as a teen (I’m looking at you, A Tale of Two Cities) only to recognize the nuance lost amidst a pubescent fog. However, there are others that have not changed in my estimation despite the passage of time (Ulysses slinks out the side door).
Reading is as soothing and grounding a practice for the mind as yoga is for the body. Like stretching our muscles and synchronizing our breathing to become more limber, our brains need a challenge to maintain neuroplasticity. But just as we need rest days for the body to recover, the brain needs a break, too. For me, that’s where comfort reading enters the scene.
The author recalls her father’s soothing voice reading her the same bedtime story every night. It’s true that a familiar plot and well-loved dialog are a balm to a weary soul. But I don’t think that weariness is necessarily tied to bedtime, nor do I feel that it always has a negative connotation. Sometimes we pine for the familiar. As they say, the heart wants what the heart wants.
My go-to comfort read on a bad day, a wistful evening, and even on a happy whim is Pride and Prejudice. There is something both comical and endearing about Mrs. Bennet’s fragile nerves and Mr. Collins’ social awkwardness. It’s the misplaced pride and freely expressed prejudice that makes Jane Austen’s comedy of manners timeless.
We all know a Mr. Wickham when we see him. Each of us has rolled our eyes at our own Mary at the family reunion. But the charm of the novel is that it doesn’t take long to realize that most of us are like Elizabeth, trying to make our way through life’s chaos with equal measures of steadfast patience and good humor.
It’s been an interesting week in the United States. You may have heard we had an election on Tuesday. I’m not one to pontificate on politics. I leave that to others more qualified. But if, as the author asserts, a good book is the best medicine, then I prescribe a few hours alone with the residents of Longbourn and their acquaintance. Because, as Mr. Bennet himself admits, “For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors and laugh at them in our turn?”
It’s no secret that Pride and Prejudice is one of my favorite novels. In the articles below it also gets a hearty mention:
Ulysses, blecch. I’m with you… all these years later, it’s still rubbish dressed up as brilliance 😴