The recent events in Paris remind that, as much as we can take comfort in one another, we can often find comfort in our favourite books as well.
So often, these so-called ‘comfort books’ are the books of our childhood or a book we read at a particularly happy time in our life.
When my mother was dying, I read the last three books in the Betsy-Tacy series again. The Ray Family saw me through that difficult time, providing comfort in a way I am not sure I could have found as easily from talking with another person (since when I wasn’t with my mother I was blubbering in a bathroom stall!).
Years later, on the last afternoon of his life, I read my father Dylan Thomas’ A Child’s Christmas in Wales. This book has a melancholia to it for sure, but its beautiful story was exactly what I needed, and what I thought he might benefit from, and honestly, I can’t think of a better person to read you out of this life than Thomas.
My children still want to dig out their old Christmas books, despite having become technically adults, and the comfort they get from a William Joyce story or one of our favourites, An Apple Tree Christmas, cannot be overstated.
This time of year, I crave Little Women. In the summer I will be thinking of Anne of Green Gables. I feel a hankering to read the Harry Potter Series again.
We can set aside the world for a few hours when we re-read one of our favourites, and when that favourite falls into the category of a comfort book, well, we are able to release a bit of the stress that pursues us.
I would love to know your comfort books! Do share!