(c) by Mary Griggs
Okay, I was reading the following blog: Love me, Love my Favourite Book
The author ended with the following paragraph:
“There’s no shame, I don’t think, in holding out for someone who understands one’s literary tastes: relationships may be temporary, but books – really good books, the books you really love – stay part of your life a good deal longer. So, go on then: which books are your romantic dealbreakers?”
I would love to live in a world where my favorite books and/or authors meshed with those of my love interest. However, I’ve just been so damn grateful when I find a reader to fall in love with that I don’t care if they don’t think that To Kill a Mockingbird or Montana 1948 are quintessential examples of American literature, or that theParable of the Sower speaks best to my growing fears of where the world is heading.
If they read at all, it is a miracle and, if they are not readers, that they give me the time and space to do so is a cause for joyful celebration. We all have known those people who just can’t understand the importance of getting lost in a book. They are jealous of the time we spend with the written word and, it is that failure to understand my need to read, that is the real deal breaker.
I do tend to make gifts of Norman Juster’s Phantom Tollbooth and Dorothy Gilman’s Maze at the Heart of the Castle to my love interest during the courting stage. That is more to find out if their heads and hearts are open to the playfulness and power that lurks within a tome than to scare them off.
I do have a list of my favorite books (in an excel file, ranked accordingly). I occasionally add to it and can sit for hours determining if this particular title is worthy enough to knock one of the others out of the top 25. They don’t fall off the page, though, because something made them important enough to include in the first place.
Some of the books are on the list because of when I read them—they might have spoken to the person I was then and it is mere nostalgia that keeps them on the list today. Others are true classics that I’m a better person for having read.
I find that my list of books is so eclectic that to gong someone because they did not find The Last of the Wine orPossession to be as compelling as I did, to be incredibly supercilious and would be like cutting off my nose to spite my face.
My final answer then is Love me, Love books and, together, we can make all the other stuff work.