It is not something we care to admit. And some of us keep it a close secret, letting it out reluctantly only when we hear that others do the same thing: Read the same books over and over.
No, we are not preparing for the entrance exam of our life, we are not revising for a test, we don’t need to be clued up to become lively conversationalists. We do this purely for pleasure, but why do we hate to admit to these pleasures?
So what if we go to the library and are overwhelmed by a cornucopia of choice and seek the comfort of an often thumbed-through book? We still find something new to marvel at each time; or perhaps, just to heighten anticipation, we savour the foreword, the introduction, the acknowledgements, getting new insights and drawing different connections or conclusions each time.
I wish I could say that I do this with some amount of discernment. That the books I read and re-read reflect a deep appreciation of literature. But no, the ones that I return to again and again are just those that strike a chord.
The habit probably began because we spent our childhood in small towns that — in those days — did not boast of any libraries. We took recourse to our parents’ collections of books and magazines, many of which were beyond our ken. We sidled into the library when no one was looking, sat on a window sill or hid behind the curtain, sometimes even crouched under the table to avoid detection — and got our first glimpses of Greek and Roman mythology, Egyptian treasure, the glory of the Middle East, the South Sea islands, the jungles and ancient temples of South America and much, much more.
Also in a corner of the library, tucked away in cartons, were piles of old magazines that brought the world to us in quite a different way. From those magazines, we learnt about paper dolls at a time when our hands and heads needed something to do — and a whole world of drawing, design and colour opened up for us. Some years later, when we stumbled upon the same magazines again, we discovered that there were valuable hints about make-up and how to highlight our best features, diet and how to make sure those features were seen when the puppy fat melted. Later still, we realised that the recipes in those now-yellowing pages were worth trying out ... and then we came to knitting patterns and baby care hints — the magazines had come a full circle with something of appeal for us at every age.
So it is with a long list of favourite books. When I sit down with Pride and Prejudice or A Woman of the People, I can spout entire passages verbatim — but I know I will turn the pages with as much excitement as I did the first time. Not rapidly, as I did on that first occasion decades ago to find out what happens next, but thoughtfully: Spending time checking out a turn of phrase that is particularly satisfying and says it all in the understated way of its time; or re-creating in my mind the setting that makes a particular incident poignant and heartrending.
From century-old children’s classics emerge innocent characters that make a tale relevant for those times and these; and from modern classics come fresh additions to the vocabulary, new ways of saying what needs to be said, fresh journeys into the imagination ...
It may be the second or the third time around if you go by numbers, but by discoveries and fresh adventures and sheer thrills: For me, it is always the first time.
Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.