I Am Waiting To Taste Books Again

Summary

The author reflects on their emotional response to reading, describing a personal journey of healing that has impacted their ability to engage with literature.

Abstract

The author recounts a poignant memory from their youth, where a poem about loss in a book related to "The Lord of the Rings" brought them to tears. Years later, while attempting to read short stories by Patricia A. McKillip, they find themselves overwhelmed by the vividness and emotional depth of her writing, which prompts a need for comfort and highlights an unhealed part of themselves. The author reveals a period when they could not read new books due to the intense emotional impact of the words, and although they have improved, they still find it challenging to immerse themselves in new literary worlds. Currently, the author is in a state of calm waiting, hoping to one day return to the joy of reading without the fear of being emotionally triggered.

Opinions

The author believes words and stories have a profound emotional impact, capable of creating tangible worlds and eliciting strong feelings.
They express that reading can evoke a sense of loss, regret, and the passage of time, which can be overwhelming.
The author holds Patricia A. McKillip's writing in high regard, describing it as enchanting and capable of stirring deep emotions.
They convey a sense of vulnerability and the need for emotional readiness when approaching literature, indicating that reading is not just an intellectual exercise but an emotional one.
The author is introspective, acknowledging their current limitations but remaining open to the possibility of future healing and the ability to enjoy reading as they once did.

We Live In Magnificent Worlds

Words have a way of hitting you, you know? The stories they tell. You can reach out and touch the worlds they create. And in the world of this poem, there was loss. There was regret. There was the passing of time that ended something beautiful.

And so, I cried.

Four days ago, I was bored. So I picked up a book of short stories by Patricia A. McKillip.

Now, this writer. She doesn’t just sing. She weaves. She weaves grandeur and the smell of cut grass in an early summer morning and the sight of a rose-covered tower at dusk. You can taste her books.

And I was not ready.

I read two stories. And then I put it down, and went to hug my husband.

She reached out with her stories like a magic wand, like a knife, like some kind of long prodding pole. And she poked a piece of me that hadn’t yet healed.

I Cannot Taste New Worlds. Not Yet.

For years, I couldn’t read new books. I couldn’t handle how to words touched me. I couldn’t safely taste new worlds or live new lives or handle the emotions they held. I am better now. I’m reading again, carefully.

This was not careful.

I felt the raw, recently-scarred-over (finally) piece of who I am being prodded by her stories. And I could not handle it.

Not yet.

I don’t know if I ever can.

I Am Waiting

I’m calm, waiting to see if I will be able to venture out from the land of the safe again. I’m not even hopeful, because there’s an impatience in that word. I’m just waiting. Waiting to see. Waiting to heal more fully, and learn if I can shakily venture out into magnificent worlds again.

But I know they’re out there, all these worlds. All the words. All these books bring tears, and hope, and cut like knives.

The worlds you can taste.

And I will wait.

I Am Waiting To Taste Books Again

Can you?

We Live In Magnificent Worlds

I Cannot Taste New Worlds. Not Yet.

I Am Waiting