"Why do we need books anyway?"
I was asked this today (fairly sure that there was at least some seriousness to the question) and it felt so ludicrous and kind of hurtful, as well to hear it in such a dismissive tone (I do have a minor degree in literature, after all) that I could only sputter and never actually give a satisfying (satisfying for me, anyway) answer to the question.
And since it won't leave me alone until I can... why do we need books, flist? I'm counting on you, guys.
(as for me, I don't know why we need books. I just know why I need books. I need them to survive and I need them because sometimes you need a book telling you that something you are or something you like or something you want to be is okay. Sometimes you need wise words that someone else who doesn't even know you wrote and that sound as if they were for you and you alone. Sometimes you need worlds you can bury yourself in when your own is falling to pieces. Sometimes you just need a vacation. Sometimes you need to meet people who give you a feeling that they get you*. Sometimes you need the feeling of completely immersing yourself in your imagination. Sometimes you need someone to teach you a lesson. Sometimes you need someone to tell you about terrible things, horrible things and remind yourself that those things actually happened. Sometimes you need happiness and rainbows and everything wonderful. And all that, I can find in books. I can pick up a simple thing made of simple paper and ink and open it and I'm in Hogwarts, in Middle Earth, in late 1990s London, in an alternate America, in Panem, in Regency England, everywhere I want to be. And isn't that fucking wonderful?)
*Hermione Granger, Eowyn Eomundsdaughter, Bridget Jones. At some point in my life, I was them. I still am. All three of them. There's no way to describe the feeling of knowing that they exist and that they will always be there for me to turn back to when I want to visit them again, just the opening of a book cover away.
And since it won't leave me alone until I can... why do we need books, flist? I'm counting on you, guys.
(as for me, I don't know why we need books. I just know why I need books. I need them to survive and I need them because sometimes you need a book telling you that something you are or something you like or something you want to be is okay. Sometimes you need wise words that someone else who doesn't even know you wrote and that sound as if they were for you and you alone. Sometimes you need worlds you can bury yourself in when your own is falling to pieces. Sometimes you just need a vacation. Sometimes you need to meet people who give you a feeling that they get you*. Sometimes you need the feeling of completely immersing yourself in your imagination. Sometimes you need someone to teach you a lesson. Sometimes you need someone to tell you about terrible things, horrible things and remind yourself that those things actually happened. Sometimes you need happiness and rainbows and everything wonderful. And all that, I can find in books. I can pick up a simple thing made of simple paper and ink and open it and I'm in Hogwarts, in Middle Earth, in late 1990s London, in an alternate America, in Panem, in Regency England, everywhere I want to be. And isn't that fucking wonderful?)
*Hermione Granger, Eowyn Eomundsdaughter, Bridget Jones. At some point in my life, I was them. I still am. All three of them. There's no way to describe the feeling of knowing that they exist and that they will always be there for me to turn back to when I want to visit them again, just the opening of a book cover away.