I’m not sure there’s anything as satisfying as beginning a new book. (Much better than completing one, but then again, I’m not very good with endings.) Peeling back the cover with one hand; feeling the bulk of its weight in the other. Smoothing down the first page. Seeing a 1 at its bottom or a Chapter One at the top. A world of characters and places, formed phrase by phrase, waiting to be discovered, ready for your immersion.
There might be only one thing to top it: The pregnant possibilities of choosing that book. Walking among the library stacks or strolling through a bookstore, consulting reviews and recommendations – those of friends and professionals. Ahhhhh… the possibilities.
Where do I want to go now? And when? With whom do I want to spend the next week of evenings? What do I want to learn? Is it too much to consider who, with this encounter, I might become?
Books and moments partner like people. And when they match, when they click, when they elevate and deepen one another…
Well, here I go: Chapter One.
Storied Life, Illustrated. 
But the anxiety! What if it isn’t very good? What if the reviews or the recommendations misled you? That is why rereading an old favorite is less stressful, and still filled with possibility. (I am currently reading a novel that is tedious and I am only halfway done…..)
LikeLike
Risk and reward, I suppose … rereading an old favorite may be less stressful, but rarely do I find that it brings the same thrill that it did the first time. (Probably because the moment – and I – have changed.) That said, maybe it’s time to cut and run from the tedious novel? Just maybe? 😉
LikeLike
So I only just looked “shidduch” up (shod duck on autocorrect), so rereading really is like marriage, and thinking about how books and readers change.
LikeLike