My best friend is a person who will give me a book I have not read. —Abraham Lincoln
I’m a gift giver by nature. It won’t surprise that I relish finding an impeccable read for an unsuspecting or celebrating friend. Acquaintances are no exception. Like fantasy/sci-fi writer Vera Nazarian, I believe “whenever you read a good book, somewhere in the world a door opens to allow [for] more light.”
Rachel is one of my favorite people…to shower with books because she’s an insatiable reader. No white lies here—it’s hard to keep up with her. (Sometimes I’m so far behind I think I’m ahead.) I gave her Ordinary Grace after she’d read it, too kind to tell me so. Recently, my defeated self resorted to asking have you read The Rosie Project, The Secret Keeper, or They Came to Baghdad? Yes. Not yet. No.
But I have my victories—big ones too. The ones where I surprise her with an enchanting read she has no knowledge of. Before the leaves started to change color, we met at a quiet cabin to refuel and laugh out loud. Happily, I handed Rachel The Snow Child. She delved into Ivey’s world morning, tried at noon, and night. Like The Rent Collector I sent to her door, she’s written a post about it. And so, I vigilantly search for pages she hasn’t plumbed through.
Last year, I picked up the Little Miss Bronte version of Wuthering Heights (a Weather Primer) for Rachel’s unborn grandchild (years out). She can put it near her big girl copy once Emma or Zannah give their mother the opportunity for inexhaustible delight. If you can’t wait for a bambino to enjoy charming illustrations that describe the different types of weather Heathcliff and Catherine encounter while crossing the moors, we’ll totally understand.