How You Know When You’re Reading the Perfect Book

There is nothing better in the world than losing yourself in a book. To be completely whisked away from the conscious self and be thrown into a world that unfolds with the turn of every page, where every word and sentence quickly gel in the mind to form scenes, people, voices, and actions—ah, that is magic. There is a special feeling when you get to the end of the book and you don’t want it to end, you could keep going for pages and pages, just to stay in that world or with that topic.

The perfect book can be any book you’re reading: fiction, non-fiction, essays, or poetry. It can be Proust or Salinger or it can be the Book of Lists, a book I spent hours with as a child memorizing the most bizarre, obscure lists with everything from the top 10 movies of all-time to famous people who died during sexual intercourse (titillating stuff for a 9-year-old). And don’t be one of those people who “only reads fiction” or only claims to like a certain type of book. Don’t even say those words. Instead, be a voracious reader who can pick up a travel epic, jump to an historical novel, and then read a book of essays. You can find yourself lost in any type of book that suits your interest.

So, how do you prepare to become lost in the “perfect book?” Generally, you have to identify with the book in some way. There is a piece of you in the book somewhere. Maybe you love airplanes and you’re reading a book on planes from World War II. Maybe you’re reading about the history of car engines and the thrill of assembly lines is staggering. Maybe the hero is similar to you in the way she feels about love or betrayal. Maybe the poet’s first few lines pull you in and hook you emotionally. When you find the essence of yourself somewhere in a book, you will start to tumble into it. I have found essence in a few books probably only a handful of times, but each time I’ve lost space and time around me as I read. I found that essence and stayed there to complete whatever journey led me to pick up the book, lose myself in it, and complete the story or instruction.

That kismet is between you and the book is special. And it might be with an author. I’ve found myself a huge fan of the typical young, white, male authors (Hemingway,Salinger, Kerouac) and became lost in their novels. Then, I read Mona Simpson and for me she realigned my thinking (The Lost Father and A Regular Guy are especially brilliant novels). And anything by Haruki Murakami will capture me for hours. Blue Highways, William Least-Heat Moon’s jaunt across the small backroads of America, was particularly engrossing. And as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to really understand two authors who used to somewhat vex me: Wallace Stevens and Umberto Eco. And, I’ve now read Things Fall Apart every year for the past three years and it gets better with every read. That’s the other great thing about finding the perfect book (or author): just as you are never permanent, neither are the books that have your essence in them.

If you can find a part of yourself in a book, it can open up parts of you that you may not have realized were there. If you are reading a travel guide of New Guinea or To Kill a Mockingbird and suddenly find your washed away from the present, it is opening you up for new experiences. Your senses may seem heightened afterwards or maybe you fall into a deep sleep when you are finished (both have happened to me). You will come out of it or awaken with a new outlook on life. This is probably as close to deep meditation as I’ve ever come, where I’ve actually changed my mindset and become a truer person afterwards. I knew I was different when I closed the book and I thought differently about the world and myself, even in some small sense. And, hopefully, it will extend to how you live your every day life. I’ve often grabbed the book I’ve finished and implored others to read it, knowing what it had just done for me. It was miraculous and I wanted to share it with others.

Sadly, this all rarely happens. I’ve done a lot of reading: for school, for work, for fun. Sometimes, even the “fun” reading can turn laborious. A book can suddenly becomes boring or confusing and the act of reading to just to finish it becomes drudgery. It’s only been within the last few years that I’ve actually been OK with throwing down a book midway with a, “Ah, to hell with this crap.” Maybe it’s because I’m older now and know I have fewer books ahead of me than behind me (shudder). Not every reading experience will hit a home run or whisk me away. But, I’m only going to settle for at least a “good” experience when reading.

So, don’t waste time with reading the bores you or becomes tiresome. Don’t feel like you have to read something (unless you are in school, then stick to your syllabus and grind it out. I surprisingly loved Joyce’s Ulysses in college, even when family and friends all groaned when I told them what I was reading). I have had enough of “have-to” reads. Life’s too short to feel like you have to read anything. I’ve read one Henry James novel and that’s one more than I’ve ever wanted to read from him. I’m not interested Phillip Roth any longer. And, I find almost all Beat writing to be boring and humorless. I want to live, love, and be loved and lose myself in a story or writing that for brief spell (a few hours or a day or two) takes me away. I’m always looking for the perfect book, hoping I find it and it finds me. It’s always a worthy pursuit.