Books are the most beautiful common denominator
A balm for our differences; a connective tissue linking us all.
Maintaining a newsletter about reading has taught me the unexpected: that books are the most beautiful, stunningly powerful common denominator.
This newsletter started out as an outlet to process what I read, given that I don’t have a ton of in-real-life people with whom I can overthink all the books. I wanted to burden people who wanted to be burdened about books. And while I anticipated an opportunity to connect with people, I never expected the amount of love I would witness — and experience myself.
Books, I have learned, are a connective tissue between us and them. More granularly, between me and you. You are here, presumably, because reading brings you joy. Everything about the two of us may be different. Are you not a mom of young children? A writer? An introvert? No? That’s great. We have books to translate our differences.
I wrote about how reading is the only time I’m not chastising myself about doing or being or achieving more. With reading, I just am. Turns out, I’m not the only one who finds stillness in books, even if the book itself is not what one would consider quiet.
Books don’t just serve as a connective tissue like this between one and another, however; they connect us to ourselves, too.
A (not entirely flattering) example from two nights ago:
My three-year-old, who has been sleeping through the night for years, woke up and required me to sit in the chair in his room until he fell back asleep. But he wouldn’t close his eyes, he just lay in bed and watched me, as if to make sure I wasn’t going to leave his room. This went on and on. And on (and on). First I was annoyed. After a time, I became angry. Then I felt rage.
Eventually I got out of the chair (“no! sit in chair!”) to grab my book. I sat back down, pulled a blanket over my legs, and settled in for what I knew would be a long middle of the night ordeal.
After reading a sentence, my heart began to settle. Literally one sentence. After a paragraph, my breathing slowed. I have no way of measuring cortisol levels but I know they began to sink and sink until I was calm — not annoyed, not angry, not enraged. And because I was distracted, I wasn’t watching my son watch me, and eventually he must’ve gotten bored because his eyes closed and he returned to sleep.
I came back to myself then, and was even able to look up from my book — at my now-sleeping baby in his bed — and feel a sense of enrapture in being his mother. Even though I didn’t read it aloud, the book (which by the way was Claire Lombardo’s newest, Same As It Ever Was) helped both of us get back to sleep after a jarring interruption.
As I write this, I realize yet another connection between books and the self. When my children are overstimulated or acting out, reading to them always helps us levelset. Reading closes the gap between our mismatched energy levels, allowing us to focus on something outside ourselves. So now, rather than it being my son versus me, it’s us two and a jungle and a superhero.
Books are, as
says, a balm.They are best if used daily.
What I’m reading: Same As It Ever Was by Claire Lombardo. I just finished Trust Exercise by Susan Choi and I had to rely on Vox to explain everything I misunderstood. Prior to Trust Exercise, I read Nita Prose’s The Maid — and I had some issues with it. I think it’s great that it features a neurodivergent character, but I dislike how Prose did it. In trying to normalize someone neurodivergent (as I presume Prose was trying to do) she made it the sole focus, which, for me, undermined the power of having a neurodivergent protagonist. Has anyone else read Trust Exercise or The Maid? I’d be so curious to hear your thoughts if so.
What are you reading?
See you next week. Love,
Love,
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the number of times I've thought to myself "well I have a book" when encountering a situation that might be less than ideal... a book can get us through quite a lot.
My book club read Prose’s ‘The Maid’ several months back and overall the group enjoyed it for the light, cozy read that it was. As you mention though, I did have a few head-tilt moments of question regarding the neurodivergent characteristics of the main character. As I recall, my biggest sticking point was the arc of her transformation throughout the book. I found her initial presentation endearing and relatable with her anxious, quiet, detail-oriented, rigid and conversationally awkward traits. As the story progressed however, the character radically altered her persona, in a sense she OVERCAME those perceived weaknesses and emerged at the end as a confident, sometimes confrontational, savvy, quick-thinking and even quicker-acting problem solver. I would have liked to see the character remain true to her initially established traits while amplifying the strength of those traits throughout the story instead of undergoing a complete flip as if those deeply ingrained characteristics were things to be ‘fixed.’ That being said, we all very much enjoyed the book and I may have been the outlier who was analyzing the psychological ramifications of the character transformation when we met to review.