You get to know a person real well when you spend a lot of time with them. My friend used to have this beautifully crafted dark wooden violin that he would take with him everywhere. He especially remembered to bring it when we would hang out together. He had this gray tape on the back so he could put his name on it. I loved his name, it was so authentic. The violin was very long and simple looking. It was my favorite instrument until one day he accidentally broke it. It was replaced no problem but the first violin was like my first love. He had never stopped playing music even after his first violin broke, he just kept on playing. Borrowed a violin until he could finally replace it. He’s dead now. The violin was buried with him. I think I should have kept it, honestly. Now the violins in a ditch seven feet under a pile of dirt. What a waste.
To re-read a book, is to love it with a heart full of appreciation. It’s supposed to be a one time read where you walk away a little wiser. Brain stimulated, thoughts gathered, okay thank you very much- then you place the book on your shelf of read books. But to re-read a book is to exploit the character that oozes from the very edges of the pages. The author is leaving you the most valuable thing a human can leave behind, their thoughts. Whether it be creative or informative, thoughts are the core of humanity and nothing else fuels progression more than thoughts.
The book I’m reading now for example is my absolute favorite book at the moment, nothing compares to the obsession I’ve acquired for the main character. Every time I finish a book I feel like I have more of an edge in comparison to myself prior to reading the book, and I’m content and I put down the book never to read it again. After all that, I keep coming back to this one book. I mostly go back and read quotes that I admire but on occasion I fully re-read the book. And every time I read it, I fall more in love with the character and the plot line and the literature as if it was offering me more than it did the first time, but it isn’t! It’s the exact same goddamn book. No added pages, no additional lines. Every time the letters of those pages flash at my eyes, the literature becomes revived, the literature is reborn.
I guess if you like a book so much you read it again, it’s probably because you’re evolving and your perspective of life has shifted well beyond your knowing so the literature is perceived through a clearer window. Your thoughts are in a way recycled, to be reshaped into something entirely different. How puzzling to think that literature literally stands still in time yet is so essential to time moving forward. This is what make’s a book a classic, when it is crafted with such insightful pieces that you can gain something each time you experience it.
A book is completely independent of our own thoughts because it withholds it’s authors own thoughts but we are entirely dependent on a book. Our thoughts rather, are developing and influenced by the literature. Sure, we each take something differently from one single book but the point is that we take something, that makes a book valuable. And to re-read a book makes it priceless.