Many a time an acquaintance or friend looking to 'get into' reading has requested me to guide him on which book to begin with. One of the most fatal flaws in my claim to being a book-lover is that I invariably struggle to answer that question.
It was only yesterday evening in a strolling discussion on my building's rooftop that my neighbour, an avid reader himself, had a ready answer. His choice was Antoine de Saint-Exupéry's "The Little Prince", an original multi-layered fable (a good 50-60 years before the Paulo Coelho factory cranked up production) which would appeal to a child for its elements of adventure and to a 60 year old for its depth of philosophy. The slimness of the volume would encourage the most effort-shy of new readers to sample it. Chances are, as a first time read, they'd love it too. Simple, convenient, elegant logic.
I could only nod in agreement and wonder why I have struggled so fruitlessly with such a simple question. Spending hours and days and years cut off from social formalities should at the very least lead to preference and expertise.
It's not that I don't have my long list of books that changed my life. In addition, I have a fair idea of which ones would be difficult for a novice reader to appreciate. It's just that I have these peculiar notions of how a book should be chosen.
At some inexpressible level, it is not only a matter of you choosing the book, it is of the book choosing you. Strolling past the best-sellers and the classics, hidden away in a dusty corner of the library, a very specific resplendent red bound set of yellowed pages is waiting to be discovered, to spring a tale of history, tragedy or relevance right into your life. The creature of recommendation wants you to go straight to the right location where the most sought-after volumes are; the fritterer of efficiency wants you to get lost along the way.
To 'get into' reading, you don't need a 100 top novels of the century checklist. What you need is ample time and a vagabond mind which allows you the luxury of answering the call of curiosity.
Because if you are inquisitive by nature, how could you not be thrilled to bits (and torn to pieces) when faced with themes and topics spanning time and space, thoughtfully curated down into a select few pages? Because if you really want to be impacted by those words that you will spend a sizable amount of your life with, why would you trust any instinct other than your own?
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