Yes, I know, I know, I know; I had a break for a day. I’m sorry, guys, but I hope you were alright.
Today, I thought I’d write about the power of books. Yes, I know, call me sad, but I love books, and that’s all well and good.
After a long, stressful day at school, what can you think of which is better than curling up in a nice, warm armchair, with a steaming cup of tea [careful, don’t burn yourself], and a god story? What is better than allowing the words to wash over you, simultaneously allowing your eyes to drift from word to word, line to line, sentence to sentence? Is there anything better than allowing yourself to be enveloped by the waiting and welcoming arms of the story, putting yourself in their shoes? When they feel pain, you feel pain. When they smile, you smile. When they laugh, you laugh. When they’re angry, you laugh… No, no, that’s not right.
Stories can be anything, and yet they’re everything. Stories can initially seem completely fictional, untruthful. But, as the story goes on, however unrealistic, you begin to see the author’s heart and soul, poured into every chacter, every scene, every word of printed ink. You can see their blood, sweat and tears enthused in the story, and that in itself makes a brilliant book.
when you get sucked in to the story enough that the minutes, hours, the ticking of the clock doesn’t speed up, it simply ceases to exist at all; when you can smell the scent described in the book; when you can see the scene before your very eyes, and yet still read the words on the page, carrying on the adventure, and when the voices of the characters are so clear and perfected in your head, you know you’ve got a good book. And what is better than entering another world? There is nothing better than escaping, for a few precious hours, to somewhere else, better or worse, and sharing someone else’s story, when your own has turned into A Series of Unfortunate Events.