Why do we read books? I mean, really. I know why we read non-fiction. That’s straightforward. We want to learn about something, some skill or specialized knowledge perhaps. Maybe we want to learn about some historical era, or a part of the world, or a particular person and their life. Or even find a way to understand ourselves or fix ourselves through self-help books.
But fiction is trickier, I think. Why do made-up stories fascinate us so much?
Oh, I know we love to be entertained. And reading fiction can be endlessly entertaining. It can take us to exotic places we’ve never been, introduce us to people we’d never normally meet, and lead us down precarious paths on adventures we’ll never take in real life. But what can we learn from made up stories?
For one thing, reading fiction can help us learn empathy because we travel in the shoes of the characters. In an old post back in 2018, I wrote that an article I’d read in The Atlantic said empathy can be taught. That it’s a “cognitive attribute, not a personality trait.” And that some medical schools actually require medical residents to take a course in fiction. After years and years of pure science courses, fiction can help young doctors develop empathy and perhaps better understand their patients.
Seriously, why would we not read fiction if it can help us to be better people? If it can teach us how to navigate through life? Or perhaps teach us how NOT to navigate life? Because the best novels I have read have taught me many things about how to live my life.
I know I’ve told you this story before, but I remember a professional development conference I attended with my department one year when I was still working. The speaker, Jeff Wilhelm author of Reading Don’t Fix No Chevys, talked about teaching literature through something called “essential questions.” He said that kids would find literature much more relatable if they could come up with the essential questions about life which the work answered. In other words identify what the work might teach them about how to live life.
He used the example of teaching Romeo and Juliet to a class in which one sceptical student knew he wanted to be an auto mechanic. What use would studying that play be to him? And Wilhelm asked him if he ever intended to be in love. Or navigate family troubles. Or have to make a moral decision. What might the play teach him about that? And one student said that maybe the play answered the question: “What should you NOT do if you fall in love?” I loved that.
I remember how the speaker’s ideas triggered our ideas. My colleagues and I yakked all the way through lunch and our coffee breaks, excited about how we might use this approach with our own students. “We’re not teaching books and stories, themes, symbolism, and character development,” we laughed. “We’re teaching kids how to live their lives… and how not to live them.” Of course, in truth, we’d still be teaching all those literary things, we’d just be coming at them from a different perspective.
And I remember later that semester tweaking my unit on King Lear to be more about family life, and things the kids could relate to easily. Of course we eventually discussed power and aging and all the other stuff. But we started with family. Sibling rivalry, birth order, single-parent families. If you want to get a bunch of teenagers talking ask them how their being the oldest or the youngest in the family affects them.
I smile when I think of the day I stood at the front of the classroom and said: “Of course everyone knows that the youngest child has it the hardest in the family. As the youngest child in my family, I know that for certain,” I told them. Oh, the pandemonium and righteous indignation that pronouncement elicited. Ha. Followed by a rousing discussion of their own families, and then of Lear and his daughters, and their actions and motivations. Gad. What fun that was.
Anyway, I am digressing as usual. I’ll get back to the family thing later. I find the birth order theory endlessly fascinating even if it has been pretty much debunked.
What I really wanted to get to is what the novels I’ve been reading, and have read, have taught me about living life. About navigating life. And about navigating life when radical change happens.
I just finished reading The Correspondent by Virginia Evans. I have not read through a book so quickly and effortlessly in ages. Not since the Boxing Day I read Clara Callan by Richard B. Wright right through, finishing at sunset when Hubby came in from skiing and I had not even thought about starting supper. This past week I had to force myself to put The Correspondent down so I didn’t finish it too soon. I didn’t want it to end.
The main character in The Correspondent is Sybil Van Antwerp, a 70-something retired lawyer and long-time clerk to a judge. She is an educated, exacting woman who loves the law because it is clear and exacting like herself. That’s why she loved her career in the law. That’s how she lives her life. Sybil is a mother, divorced from the father of her three children. She has an adopted brother, a few life-long friends, and many correspondents to whom she writes regularly. In fact, Sybil lives her life through her careful and prolific letter writing. Her letters and the letters she receives comprise the entire novel.
The book is beautifully written. Organized such that we get more and more, ever deeper, glimpses into Sybil’s life. Her triumphs, her failures, her conflicts, desires, and fears. We learn that she was adopted at 14 months by a well-to-do family, raised by loving adoptive parents, married, had three children, lost one son when he was eight years old, resents her children’s interference in her life, does not get along with her daughter, resents the travails of aging, and is going blind. Through Virginia Evans’s skilful writing we see Sybil confront her conflicts, grapple with her demons and her inadequacies, and, even at her age, learn how to live her life better.
It’s interesting to note that as much as Sybil is financially secure, is admired by many for her considerable talents, has friends, a loving brother, and fairly attentive children, she still sees life as a bleak and inevitably cold and lonely road.
Early in the novel, Sybil, in a letter to Joan Didion, explains: “I think of life rather like a long road we walk in one direction. By and large a lonesome walk out in the wildness of hills and wind. Mountains. Snow.” Sometimes, she says, you spy a light and a warm house in the distance. You might go inside, have a meal, “stay overnight or for a few years.” “But,” she continues, “the stretches on the high, wind-blown road are far commoner than the stopovers in comfort.”
And much, much later in the novel she writes: “…it’s taken me some time to recognize how knowing you has been like coming in from the cold, lonely road to find a warm fire and a table laid…” That line made me tear up. Learning how to see life, your choices, and your mistakes differently, and then mending your ways, in your seventies is not easy. But this novel teaches us that it’s possible. And totally worth the effort.
Virginia Evans’s book is not a perfect book. But it’s a darned good one. And it’s totally, totally worth the read.
I admit to being partial to books about women written by women. I think that women writers have more to teach us about navigating life as a woman. That’s not to say that men have not written wonderful books with women narrators. Richard B. Wright’s Clara Callan is one example. But still. Women writers are obviously drawing, at least in part, on their own experiences. And that holds more verisimilitude for me.
One writer whose books have lived in my brain for many, many years is Canadian writer Constance Beresford-Howe. Her novel A Population of One is my favourite. About a young female academic who turns thirty, takes a new job far away from her home, and finds love. At least for a time. Her calm, quiet bravery inspired me when I was single myself. And the last scene in the book has never left me.
Similarly Beresford-Howe’s novel A Serious Widow is a wonderful novel. Marion is widowed at age 50 and immediately, at her husband’s funeral in the first chapter, actually, realizes she never knew him. The entire book is about Marion learning to live with her new reality. She grapples with her new status… one might call it non-status. Grapples with her very prickly daughter. Finds her strengths. And grows into a stronger person who makes her wishes known, much to the surprise and not necessarily the delight of her friends and family. Prickly daughters seem to be a theme for me lately. Sybil’s daughter in The Correspondent is decidedly prickly too.
One might say that A Serious Widow is a book about empathy. Those who have it and those who don’t. It would be a perfect book for a fledgling doctor to read. Especially doctors who deal with elderly patients.
If you’re interested, you can find most of Constance Beresford-Howes books here.
Yesterday, I started reading, for the second time, the novel The Break by Irish writer Marian Keyes. I read it a few years ago and we are discussing it next week at my book club, so I’m reading it again. I’ve read several of Keyes’ books. They are all great fun to read. But they all teach us lessons about dealing with hardship. Loneliness, heartbreak, addiction, dysfunctional families, you name it, Keyes has dealt with it in her books. And with humour, sensitivity, and a great story. Her novels might not be considered literary fiction, but they are not fluff.
The main character in The Break is Amelia, Amy as she is known to her friends and family. She is forty-four, married with two children and a more-or-less adopted niece, a large extended family with siblings, elderly parents, a stressful job… and her husband has announced that he is leaving for a six-month “break.” He still loves her and the children and fully plans to return to pick up the threads of their life after six months. O-kay. How’s that going to work?
This is my favourite passage:
“When I’d first met Hugh, self-reliance ran through my core. Somewhere along the line, I’d been reconfigured into someone who was just one half of a marriage, but that fearless woman might still be inside me – there had been a thing in Psychologies saying we carry all our earlier selves inside our current self, like those sets of Russian dolls. If I could just reconnect with that version of me, everything would be grand.”
I thought of my mum when I read that passage from The Break. Mum was married at eighteen and had three kids by the time she was twenty-three when her husband was killed. She was a single parent for a time until she met and married my father and they had me. Then after a few years that marriage crumbled. Big time. And she was alone for eight years, a working single mum raising four kids. Then she met my step-father, Lloyd, and he became her rock for almost forty years.
When Lloyd died, we all worried about her. At almost 81, how would she manage on the farm by herself? I remember distinctly saying to Hubby that I knew Mum had the strength to be on her own, but that it might be buried too deeply after forty years for her to access that part of herself. Turns out it wasn’t. After a time, she just reached inside herself and found that part that she hadn’t used for a long while. Like opening up that set of Russian dolls until she found the one she needed.
But let’s get back to the whole birth order thing. Have a look at the two photos I included early in the post. One is of my mum’s two sisters. Marion is on the left. Mum always said Marion was a real lady: kind, considerate, sweet. She was the eldest child of all mum’s siblings. On the right is my aunt Gwyneth, the middle girl. Strong, high-achieving, and always a bit intimidating. You can see their personalities in the photo, especially in Gwyneth’s “don’t mess with me” stare. Mum was the youngest of the three girls. After her came a bunch of brothers.
The photo on the right is of my sister Carolyn and me at our great-niece’s wedding in 2024. As the youngest daughter and youngest child (until my stepbrother came along when I was 14), I know I fit the stereotype. Feckless (at least for a while) and fun. Ha. And my sister fits the eldest child stereotype (high achieving, strong), even though she is the second child after my brother.
But here’s what is interesting. Mum and my grandmother always said I was just like my aunt Marion (in looks and personality), but she was the eldest and I am the youngest. And Carolyn was supposed to be like my aunt Gwyneth (in personality.) Neither one an eldest child, but both seemingly exhibited the eldest child’s characteristics.
Now I wonder what that does to the whole birth order theory? Except to prove that scientists were right in debunking it.
I will say that when my students studied King Lear they had tons of fun looking at Lear’s three daughters and using pop-psychology, including the birth order theory, to analyze them.
Now before I close, I want to qualify something I said earlier. I called fiction “made up.” Which in a way it is. But of course everyone knows that fiction writers draw on their own observations and experiences to help build their characters and plots, and that they may set their stories in actual places. But because it’s fiction they are not bound to recreate anything exactly as it is in real life. So, fiction is made up, in a way. But in another way it holds life’s essential truths.
So why do we read books?
Why don’t you tell me? I know you’re dying to weigh in on the conversation. And when you do, friends, please tell us which books you’ve read held the wisdom you needed to help you navigate life. That’s if you can narrow it down.
P.S. The book links in this post are affiliate links. If you make a purchase after clicking my link, I will earn a commission which helps to pay for the blog. If you’d rather not shop, and you want to support my blog, you can always buy me a coffee. 🙂
45 thoughts on “Why Do We Read Books?”
That is a poser, and no mistake! Why do we read fiction? Escape, comfort, distraction, amusement…? When I was at university doing English Literature, a fellow student, studying something technical, asked me what was the point of studying books? I can’t recall my answer (probably terse) but now I would reply: all human life is here. Art, culture, philosophy, belief, the human lot. How to live. Why we make mistakes. What is a good life? More important now than ever before as the tech bros and the far-right try to control the world. Perhaps if they tried some novels they might realise the futility of their aims. Could start with Little Dorrit.
I love that line, Annie… “all human life is here.” Now I just want someone to ask me that question so I can say: “A wise friend from England once said….”
I loved The Correspondent & read Clare Callan on your recommendation too . Great book . There’s so much wisdom in good fiction & wisdom is very rare these days . As to which writers have impressed me in that way , well apart from the Annes , Tyler & Patchett , there’s Elizabeth Strout & Mary Lawson . Then Penelope Lively is a favourite , including her autobiographical stuff . Years ago I read & enjoyed all Mary Wesley’s work . More recently I loved The Crooked Heart Trilogy by Lissa Evans .
PS I know your Lloyd was a lovely man but I didn’t realise he was so handsome . Do you think he ever knew ?
I almost titled this post Women and Wisdom because I have learned so much wisdom from female writers. Or maybe I should say from characters written by female writers. Of course I love Elizabeth Strout. I’m so happy that you like Mary Lawson. Her characters have always stayed with me, especially the ones from Crow Lake. I loved Mary Wesley’s books too. Haven’t tried Lissa Evans… yet. About Lloyd. It’s funny but I don’t see him as handsome. I never thought about it before. And I know he’d never think it. I wish he was still living so I could tell him that’s what you said, in the presence of my mum. She would scoff and tell me not to give him a swelled head. Ha.
Hi, Sue —
I enjoyed your post today! I would include escapism/armchair travel to places and times we may not or cannot experience, examples of how people have coped and grown in response to life’s circumstances, familiar themes that have been experienced by people (women!) in other situations and eras which we may not initially think of as similar to our own.
Recent books I have enjoyed include The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhorn. and Heart the Lover by Lily King.
By the way, is it possible to offer book links other than Amazon? Hopefully most of us are boycotting that source! I always look at my library first, but apparently Canadian authors are not well represented there.
Reminder to turn out for the No Kings protest on March 28!
Definitely travelling to places and times I could never visit is on my list too. I’ve been looking at Heart the Lover. I loved Lily King’s novel based on the life of Margaret Mead.
About the book links… I have several irons in the fire, various emails to book stores/companies none of whom have replied to me about becoming an associate. I have tried three times to reach out to Indigo here in Canada to no avail.
This is very provocative! I have read articles in the past about fiction reading and empathy and that’s an intuitive result to me.
I would draw a different conclusion to you on the broad statement about the impact (on me) of women writers versus male writers, but I’m from a slightly younger generation and my life has been decidedly more intertwined with men’s than many of my peers’. I’ve also never felt like a woman’s woman, whatever that means, maybe because I’ve never liked, even from childhood, the way that groups of women can lean into gossip or competitiveness with one another. I realize that this does not include all women, but I’ve always blamed a social training in insecurity (realize a bold statement and I feel sad about the expectations and biases that have led to this). I am the only girl in my family, studied almost exclusively with men, and ended up working mostly with men. The books that hit me at the right time and place and felt most impactful included Of Human Bondage (discovering Somerset Maugham in my twenties was a revelation), so I’m an equal opportunity reader. Many of my favourite poets are or were men. More broadly, if I’m truthful, I’ve been in relationships and had multi-decade friendships with deeply empathic and loving men, who have also been long-term caregivers to parents. In sum, I have a difficult time thinking of something a woman could teach me about what matters to me in life and my relationships with others that a man could not. (My understanding these days also is that there is a paucity of men’s fiction writers getting published and that’s an interesting issue in the context of differing trends in educational attainment between men and women.)
On the birth order topic, I’m not sure to which studies you are referring (seems personality). I think there are some studies in the economics literature about the human capital impacts of birth order that are considered testable and replicable, which reflect the resources and time that parents invest in parenting a first child and the impacts this has on their career choices and later earnings path, etc.
Anyway..long comment but very interesting post and I will look up the Correspondent, which I have heard from others is a good read. Reminds me a little in hearing about it of The Stone Diaries, but different subject matter and still somewhat epistolary. I recall there being one letter in that book that touched me deeply, about dancing in a kitchen. Cheers!
It seems intuitive to me too that fiction can instil empathy. But it did not occur to me that empathy was a “cognitive skill,” as one researcher put it, and not just something we have or do not have. Like long legs. Ha.
Unlike your experiences I grew up in a household of females. My poor brother, saddled with a mum and three sisters. At least until my mum married my step-dad and he came with a son. But by then my brother was married, and had three daughters. He was destined to live with females, I guess.
I have a lot of favourite male writers too, but most of the literary fiction I read seems to be written by women. Maybe because when I was a kid one did not talk to men about emotional stuff. Funny because my stepfather was a very empathetic man.
As to the birth order topic. I read a few articles years ago when I was teaching King Lear and wanted to broach that subject. And they were, as you said, about the personality aspect. The ones I read this past week concluded that birth order has a very small effect on one’s personality in the end, once one has grown up and left home. Plus the whole topic is so complex that the other article I read concluded that it was almost impossible to work with a sample in which the variables were similar enough to draw replicable conclusions. Still, it’s an interesting topic to play around with, I think.
P.S. I don’t recall the dancing in the kitchen scene in Stone Diaries. But I remember the novel touched me deeply.
I think it does make a difference to have sisters. I always wanted a sister and was so disappointed when my youngest brother was born! I ended up doing many things that threw me into relationships with men more than women and the few women I have close friendships are highly independent and somewhat radical women, so that has certainly shaped my perspective. I read fiction by both men and women, but in recent years have gravitated to many male authors (love Knausgaard, for example). I do find the studies of personality and also the gender fluidity of younger generations fascinating.
Completely agree with you, Annie and Wendy.
First of all, reading is a pure joy and pleasure for me. Always learning,feeling something new,different perspectives,way of life,how people think,feel,react,write…..why,where,how…..whole world is in the books to explore. Do books change people? I’m sure they do, in a way other forms can’t. There is a writer,a book,a reader…and than magic can happen,even different magic for different people
Writer can choose how to describe, reader can choose how to interprete
Why are banning or burning the books one of the first thing dictators do? It is more difficult to deceive people who read books
I’ve loved The Correspondent,magic did happen
It is not easy to choose a book or two at once,maybe I’ll be back here later
Dottoressa
I think the very first book I read that taught me something about living was Anne of Green Gables. I still remember phrases from that book. I love that you mention what the reader brings to a work. I guess that’s why some books move some of us more than others.
One of my Sunday morning pleasures is reading your wonderful posts. I agree almost completely with your review of The Correspondent. One of the joys of reading a book and having the ability to discuss it, is how we can come together to agree and occasionally see something in a very different way. When you wrote,” she resents her children’s interference in her life”, I see it in a totally different way. For me, the death of her son was just too painful and I think her withdrawal was a protection for herself and in someways for her children. Her guilt surrounding his death which happened under her watch was almost more than she could bear. It seemed to me, her whole life changed from that time on. She emotionally withdrew and isolated herself . I absolutely loved the book and for me it could have been a thousand pages longer!
Thanks for your weekly updates. I appreciate your update on shops in Ottawa.
Many thanks, Carole
I whole-heartedly agree, Carole. Her son’s death was the catalyst which changed Sybil’s whole life afterwards. Until the end of the book, I think, when she seems at peace. She did say in a letter early in the novel that she resents that her son and daughter seemed to be telling her what to do with her life, though. It’s hard to write these posts sometimes because I want to say so much more but also know that many readers will not have read the book and I don’t want to reveal too much and spoil it for them.
I love to read. I have been reading books
( fiction and nonfiction) forever no was always at the library as a child and still always have one or two books going. It might be because I was an only child and our house was always fairly quiet. I had no siblings to hang out with.
Anyway I’m going to read the Correspondent I have heard elsewhere it’s a good one.
I always love to read your blogs about books and reading. I think I now have a different perspective on King Lear. What a great way to have young people read it and relate it to their own families.
Thanks, Paula. When my classes and I looked at Lear through the lens of the family, and at the sisters through the birth order theory, we came to all kinds of conclusions that other classes had not made before.
I’ve been waiting for The Correspondent to come in at the library for awhile, but I’m still number 50 in line! Obviously it’s very popular and I can’t wait to read it. In the meantime, I’ve just requested A Serious Widow.
I think you’ll like them both, Elaine. 🙂
Wonderful post Sue, thank you. I find that I prefer women writers but I also read books by men, and enjoy them. I started devouring books as a young teenager to break out of the bonds of my rather lonely and insular life. Daughters of migrants didn’t have much freedom or agency then and books allowed me to travel the world and also to time-travel at will. I was constrained as to where I could go and with whom but my reading wasn’t censored. Reading Germaine Greer’s The Female Eunuch at 18 helped me make sense of women’s lives and the roles they were expected to play in society. However, reading Jane Austen at an earlier age gave me great pleasure, and showed how individuals can break free of personal and societal limitations. I’ve continued to read for pleasure and escape but also to learn more about and different life stages, e.g. career, relationships, motherhood and now as an older woman.
It is amazing what we learn reading books … at every stage of life, isn’t it?
I’m an only child so can’t weigh in on birth order but have another question. I come from a family of readers on both sides. Never without a TBR pile. And now I can see that continuing on to a fourth generation. Is it possible that love of reading, both fiction and nonfiction, is somehow genetic, or is it something that is simply observed and then continued? Lots of being read to as a child too so maybe that’s part of it.
My sisters and I have wondered how Mum produced two children who could not get enough of books, and two who never read. Even though Mum read to us all when we were little.
I’ve read fiction all my life and it has shaped how I view the world, in a good way I hope. I’d like to highlight George Eliot’s Middlemarch as an example. To me, the best part of that book is the very droll voice of the narrator – so many pithy, wise observations and asides. I took note of my favourites and copied them into a document that I titled “Everything I Need to Know, I Learned from Middlemarch”. It was almost five single-spaced pages long!
I read it over last night after reading your post and Eliot’s wit and wisdom still ring true for me.
I’ve never read Middlemarch. I should remedy. that, I think. What fun that you saved your observation notes!
Middlemarch is one of my favourites, too. I read it in my twenties and it hit me at the right moment, but I suspect were I to reread it now I would feel connected to different characters given my life experience.. There’s a fun book also called My Life in Middlemarch by Rebecca Mead that is well done and that I enjoyed also, along similar principles to your list!
The simple answer for me is that reading fiction helps us understand how to be human, in all that entails. Can anyone read the ending of The Grapes of Wrath (Rose of Sharon, the starving man) and not have their heart blown wide open?
Oh gad, that book was a heartbreaker, wasn’t it?
I read, and re-read that book when I was sixteen. It was the first major work that had grabbed me and shown me what superb writing looked like. I had to ditch my copy last year because it had fallen to pieces. Must get another. For me, the best bit was the small section which describes them travelling through each state until they finally reach California. You so much want them to find the promised land…thanks for reminding me.
Sue – I’ve read forever. Always got awards and certificates in school for shooting beyond the required readings for the year. Still love reading. For many years, I read non-fiction exclusively and mostly books about WWII – The Splendid and the Vile about Churchill being a particular favorite. Within the past year or two I’ve transitioned to mysteries and just finished the latest installment of the Thursday Murder Club – so glad to read there will be another book in the series. My parents were good readers who, instead of books, read magazines from cover to cover. We subscribed to all the major magazines – Life, Look, Saturday Evening Post, National Geographic and my mom got her “women’s magazines” of course. When I was about one, they bought me a Life subscription to Readers Digest. I am still enjoying that (cover to cover) at 76! I think the $40 they spent in 1951 was a pretty good buy. Love your writing and always look forward to spending some time with you on Sundays.
Thanks, Claudia. I haven’t seen a Reader’s Digest in years. How cool that you’re still getting benefit from that long ago gift.
I read fiction for the pure enjoyment of it, but I also recognize how much it has taught me over the years and how much richer and fuller it has made my life. I was raised by parents who were kind and loving, but who, I came to realize as I got older, had a fairly narrow world view. Many of their core values remain important to me, but immersing myself in fiction through all the stages of my life has broadened my world considerably and has given me insight into lives that differ from mine in a multitude of ways … and a greater appreciation of the common human experience that binds us all together.
The Correspondent was recent reading for me as well, and one of the most memorable books of my recent history. I was sorry to see it end!
I think you are exactly right, Denise. Reading broadens our world, and, as you say, gives us a “greater appreciation of the common human experience.”
This eldest of six children thanks you for today’s blog – one of your best.
I grew up with my nose in a book to escape the chaos of the younger siblings. They all grew up to be wonderful, and still noisy, people.
I grew up with my nose in a book to escape the chaos of three older teenage siblings. Ha.
Books for me are an escape, adventure, learning…..my mind goes elsewhere and I love to read! Best book I have read lately, Theo of Golden. Beautifully written, tender, caring and compassionate story. I will read again for sure
😊
I have that book on order at the library. Thanks for reinforcing my choice. 🙂
Loved this post- you write as if we were sitting together having a tea and conversation. Loved the book The Correspondent. Thank you for all your posts and how you share your life with “strangers”. Your Mom is an inspiration by the way she handled adversity.
My mum was an inspiration in dealing with adversity… you are right. 🙂 It’s funny how little compunction I have about writing about myself and about my family. I don’t talk about everything, of course. And don’t tell personal stories that are not mine to tell. But I look at it as if I’m writing a memoir. 🙂
A very good post Sue and I have been an avid reader of both fiction and non fiction ever since I was a child. The idea that one can learn empathy from fiction is quite interesting. While I can’t name any specific book, there are many that after reading, I felt more knowledgeable about various aspects of life. I am currently reading ‘The Gown’ by Jennifer Robson and absolutely enjoying it and learning how two strong Women navigated life during those difficult years following World War II.
I really enjoy reading books set in World War I and II as well. Two of my favourite are by Pat Barker’s Regeneration tripoly about WWI and the more recent Think of Me by Frances Liardet set partly during WWII. Both authors are wonderful writers.
As a retired kindergarten teacher, I was often able to see first hand how the shared experience of reading could connect even young children. During story time, students were exposed to different ideas and world views. I especially loved when I read a humorous story and they “got it”. I was so honored to expose them to quality children’s literature on a daily basis and I know this good work continues around the world. I am also a lifelong reader and read all kinds of fiction growing up. I am so grateful to have developed this love of reading and still get a thrill when I read a really good book such as ‘The Correspondent’. I have discovered so many books via my Kindle, so am also grateful for that. If anyone is looking for a fun and clever read, I would like to suggest “The Unselected Journals Of Emma M. Lyon” by Beth Brower. These are set during Victorian times and I found myself laughing out loud several times. There are several volumes available for free if you have Kindle Unlimited. I love your fashion and book posts!!!
Thanks for the suggestion, Jill. I will look for that book.
I feel lost if I don’t have a book on the go and another one or two lined up. I think it’s a very legitimate reason to sit in a comfy chair for hours. I love your book posts and often discover a new author that way.
I agree. I’m not “doing nothing,” as some people say, when I’m curled up with a book. 🙂
This one struck a chord, strong enough for me to comment. I have always been a reader, since I was a child. Reading brought me to places I never could have imagined without the reading. When I married and my husband noticed how much I read he told me it was a waste of time, that I should only read non-fiction where I might learn something. I tried to explain, but he felt strongly and derided it. I did not stop reading but I did eventually divorce him because that was an early sign that he could not have empathy for me; was not willing to learn from me and that who I am, just as I am, has value. In addition to your insights about reading I warmed to the insights about your mother and other women who have been able to relight earlier aspects of themselves, as I am now doing after having been married for 25 years and now divorced. (Yes, took me a long time to say I had had enough, but any time is the right time to re-stake one’s claim to oneself.)
Congratulations, Maryellen. Love that phrase… “re-stake one’s claim to oneself.” 🙂
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