When life gets a little wobbly for me, when I look around me and there's this rather large mote of emotion or troubles or stress I begin to build myself a bridge. It takes time, care and patience; each book a brick that has to be selected carefully. Sometimes rain will lash down and threaten to flood my little island, but as yet the banks have held. With each book, I get closer to the mainland, and I get more determined to get there, a smile growing on my face. The books slot together perfectly, each adding a stitch to my patches until I become reasonably fully formed again. (No one ever is fully formed though, don't be silly!) Recently books that I wouldn't have dreamed of approaching have helped me more than I could've imagined. As cathartic as book shopping is, the real joy comes when you sit and fall into another world and then hit a passage or a feeling or a thought that reveals the sun to you. Out from a cloud, comes this clarity. And it's wonderful. Readi...
Literature and Life