By Rachel Treisman, MC’19
Rachel Treisman reflects on the ghosts of her past: ghosts of the literary kind.
When it comes to the ghosts of my past, I could talk about people, moments, feelings… but I want to focus on different spirits: books. It’s hard to explain, but books are the ghosts of my life.
Since I was young, I have always loved to read. As a kid, I read a lot, and I read fast. When my mom bought books at the store, she would have to wait several days to give them to me so that I wouldn’t read them all before the end of the week. In my room at home, I have a tall bookshelf that barely has space for any more paperbacks. Undoubtedly, stories and books are a huge part of my life. They are my ghosts because they remind me of moments from my past.
Take the Harry Potter books, for example. They bring back so many memories: waiting in the bookstore to buy the new book, going with my best friend and parents to the final movie premiere, and spending snow days reading by the fireplace while drinking hot chocolate. Books are more than just pages to me; they are memories.
Another hovering ghost is the book, The Art of Racing in the Rain. I’ll always remember the first time I read the sad story and cried. The book, narrated from the perspective of an aging dog, reminded me of all the times I’ve had with my own dog. There are happy books I love — such as John Green’s books — and sad books — like Little Women, the works of Sarah Dessen, Marley and Me — and more. There are books that I had to read for high school and college which I enjoyed. There are books that remind me of good times and ones that remind me of not-so-good times.
Books remind me of the different people, places, and things that have interested me over the years. They aren’t ghosts in a scary sense; rather, books are reminders of my past — and if the journalism and history readings stacked on my dorm room floor are any indication, books also represent my hopes for the future.