For the Love of Books
The love of books is something that my husband and I share. Talking about our favorite books drew us together in our early days of dating, reading the same novels and sharing our thoughts on them continues to bring us closer. Today is World Book Day, a day that celebrates authors, publishers and the power that stories have in our lives. This year’s theme is ‘share your story.’ Last year, in honor of Word Book Day, I shared those books that most shaped who I am. I thought about sharing the best books I’ve read since last World Book Day, but I was struck by the theme of this year — share your story. It made me appreciate the role a shared love of literature has played in my own love story, as with each book my husband and I share, I learn more about the book and about him too. I’ve seen the power of books at work in my own life, shaping my own story all along.
Books have a unique power, sharing truths about reality and opening our minds to new ways to comprehend the world. Reading Tolkien opened my mind to the world of Middle Earth, where good would always conquer evil and even the most meek of creatures had a strength that could change the world. Andrew Lang’s collections of fairytales taught me the reward for goodness and kindness, and that you can wear a princess dress and still climb trees. Jane Austen’s novel reminded me quiet village life is not without its excitement and eccentricities, and that true love is worth waiting for. Through my favorite characters my own character grew and developed: Dorothy and Alice both taught me to appreciate the beauty in the bizarre while Lucy Pevensie gave me an example for faith, sweetness, and strength. As much as books have shaped my thoughts and life, it’s through sharing books with my husband that I’ve come to appreciate the power of books in a new and unique way.
From our engagement shoot, pictured with the books we read together that summer. Photo credit: Nathaniel Brown
In the summer of 2019, my then boyfriend-now husband Austin and I spent 9 weeks long distance. We’d only been dating about 5 months when we said goodbye, as I stayed in Potsdam and he drove down to Maryland for a summer internship. While this was certainly not the way we would have liked to have spent our first summer together, it ended up being a pivotal 9 weeks, as it gave us the chance to realize independently that we wanted to spend our lives together. During this time we stayed connected in the typical ways — texting and calling each other every day and visiting each other every 2-3 weeks. But we also stayed connected in some less typical, but arguably even more special ways — regular handwritten letters and books.
Throughout those 9 weeks, we would take turns picking out novels that we each would read independently, and then talk about together. We read all kinds of novels — from Jane Austen’s Emma to Neil Gaimon’s American Gods to a heartbreaking Norwegian novel called Love. Our shared favorite was The Last Unicorn, by Peter S. Beagle. It captured everything we both loved in a novel, both in the themes we shared and the themes to which we were each independently drawn. We both found ourselves pulled into the lush world of a high fantasy, the unicorn’s quest, and what it said about good overcoming evil. Sharing these books became far more than a way to pass the summer and fill the time until we were together again. It wasn’t even a cute, unique way to stay connected. It was something deeper. Through these shared books, we could see the stories that mattered to the other one, see parts of ourselves and each other reflected in the pages, and come to know each other more intimately than before. One might think that this ability of reading together to open our hearts to the other was only so profound at this time because of the crucial moment in our relationship that we found ourselves in, but it’s continued to hold true to this day.
Earlier this year Austin read Lila, the third installment in Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead Quartet, following the life of Iowa pastor John Ames and the various people in his life and parish. Lila follows the inner life of hobo turned pastor’s wife Lila Ames. The book - much like the entire series - touched him deeply (you can read his thoughts on Lila here!), particularly what he perceived about the lens of innocence and beauty through which Lila viewed the world. He couldn’t wait for me to read it. When I read Lila, I could see the beauty in it, but I also found myself navigating the mind of a woman deeply saddened by the loss her life had shown her. In sharing our thoughts, our unique experiences in the mind of Lila, Austin and I came to understand the book in new deeper ways than we would have on our own. I came to appreciate how Lila uniquely views the world is less about sadness or beauty but about the temporal nature of life — which is simultaneously sorrowful and yet precious. But I also realized something about my husband, something I both knew and yet didn’t know: his audacious hope and optimism. Where I saw sorrow and loss in the temporal nature of life, Austin’s optimism and deep capacity for love allowed him to see the beauty of life’s preciousness. The book and Austin opened my eyes, helped me see the world anew, and the wider my eyes opened to comprehend this new, precious way seeing, I could see Austin the more clearly, and love him all the more.
The love of stories has shaped my own story. The magic of a good book to reveal something about reality, about ourselves, is not new to me. Yet, this unique power of books to peel back the ordinary and to reveal the sublime is something I am appreciating more and more every day. Long ago books opened up my heart to the man who would be my husband, as he shared his love of Russian literature with me and we bonded over Tolkien and political theory. Sharing stories with Austin turned my life into a greater story than I could imagine. Somehow, books continue to open more doors, revealing new and incredible depths to my life and to my love. And, conversely, our love reveals new truths within books to me as well. I find myself in a world completely new, and so much more wonderful than any novel could have prepared me, and somehow that wonder has made even the pages of my favorite books new. I suppose that’s the magic of love, that it makes all things new, even the oldest of stories.
