Am I weird for liking to re-read books?
This has come up twice in the last two days, once in my American Lit.
and once in my Creative Writing and Publishing class. Apparently, it’s a lot
rarer than I thought to not only enjoy a book once, but to enjoy it many times.
One person I talked to said they only re-read books if they’ve
forgotten the details, usually with at least SIX YEARS between readings. Even
if that were my philosophy, I’m sure I’d read them more often than that.
(Though that may just be due to me forgetting details faster.)
Another classmate said occasionally re-reads, but she prefers new
things—there’s so much out there to read, why shouldn’t she? I can understand
that. Just because I like to re-read doesn’t mean I don’t like new things. But
they almost make it seem like a bad thing that I do…
Anyway, my teacher says he never
re-reads (though I find that hard to believe; he’s a teacher, for Pete’s sake;
he has to re-read whatever he assigns students). Another said she only does
when she has to—like for a class. Their biggest argument seems to be that once
you’ve read it, you know what’s going to happen.
I don’t get it. When you watch a movie, don’t you like to watch it
over again, even when you know what’s going to happen? Why buy books, if you’ll
never read them again? Why care? Sure, re-reading isn’t the same experience as
the first time around—but that’s just the point. It’s different. You catch
different things. You notice different things. Different things speak to you.
You may know what’s going to happen, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it.
I love books. I love reading books, whether it’s the first time or
the seventh. Re-reading old stories is like visiting old friends. Those
characters you know so well, imaginary people and places you love. How can you
never re-read? How can you abandon them? I just don’t get it. Why do I appear
to be the minority, anyway? I thought that among English majors, surely, I
would find people who also loved to re-read. They say they love books, even
certain books and stories. But how can you love something you leave behind? How
can you love something you don’t spend time with? It doesn’t make sense to me.
Oh well. I suppose I can’t force my views on anyone. It almost
hurts my feelings, on behalf of those books. These people seem to be saying “Yeah,
you were a good story, but I’m never going to read you again. See ya.” It seems
like a lie. Sorry this is a little rant-y. But I’ll ask it again: am I weird for re-reading?
