November
03
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BOOKS THAT HOLD YOUR HAND by Tania Unsworth
In the days following my father’s death two years ago, the only thing that gave me any respite from grief was reading. I had recently bought the first volume of Robert Kirkman’s The Walking Dead. I’d always been a fan of graphic novels and comics in general, although it was only an intermittent interest. But now it seemed I could read nothing else. I quickly finished that first volume and went to my local comic book store to buy the second and the third. By the end of the week, there were fourteen in the series piled up on my coffee table.
For anyone who hasn’t read Kirkman’s work (on which the TV series The Walking Dead is based), I must tell you that his long, starkly illustrated tale of a world overrun by terrifying zombies – and the far more terrifying human beings that survive – is not for the faint of heart. It’s not even for anyone with more than a passing interest in keeping down their lunch. The books are a lot more twisted and violent than the TV show (although also in my opinion, more profound and interesting) and they are among the few things that I would not want my children to read.
But in my bereavement, they provided a strange comfort.
Perhaps it was simply that they were powerful and disturbing enough to distract me from my unhappiness. Or maybe I found a match between their vision of a world thrown into chaos and my own personal turmoil that felt briefly like solace. I’ve not looked at them since that time and not felt the desire to buy any of the installments in the series that have been published since then. But it started me thinking about what books and texts we turn to in times of stress or sadness, or simple uncertainty.
When I was a kid, I read books that were advanced for my age, but I also read books aimed at much younger children. It wasn’t just that I enjoyed returning to my old favorites; a new layer of understanding emerging as each year passed. I also read them for comfort, a way to remind myself whenever getting older felt frightening or overwhelming, that I could always go back to the reassuring territory of Moominvalley or Narnia or the secret tunnels of Fantastic Mr. Fox.
As a teen, faced with a combination of faltering grades and troubles within my family, I went through a phase of cutting school. It was a pretty feeble sort of rebellion; I never did anything but hang out in the town center library. There, day after day, I wallowed in the guilty pleasure of trashy romance novels, their covers always featuring women with wind-swept hair and low-cut gowns and universally square-jawed, brooding men. I knew they were (mostly) silly and formulaic and I would have been mortified to have been caught reading them (it would have embarrassed me far more than the fact that I was skipping school). But at the time they felt like what I needed. They filled an empty space in a way I couldn’t explain.
Sometimes, when we turn to certain books in times of desperation, I think it might be for the same reason that pregnant women often crave an odd or uncharacteristic item of food; because we unconsciously sense the need for some missing, essential nutrient.
It’s not always obvious what that nutrient might be. Not long ago, during a particularly low phase with my writing (one of those times when you wonder why you ever thought you could write a shopping list, let alone a whole book), I found myself re-reading all twenty of Patrick O’Brian’s brilliant Aubrey/Maturin novels so compulsively that I finished them within a few weeks. I have no idea why I found such comfort in reading about adventures at sea during the Napoleonic Wars, but I did.
More recently, thinking ahead to my next writing project and half terrified by the thought that I will never have another good idea again as long as I live, I find myself unable to read anything except fairy tales. I’m working my way steadily through the Brothers Grimm, Hans Christian Anderson and assorted folk tales from around the world. This obsession is perhaps easier to understand. Using a minimum of words and even fewer explanations, fairy tales are story telling at its most basic and fundamental. I may not find my next great idea, but it helps to feel the old, reassuringly solid shape of those building blocks.
It seems I have reading material for every crisis, great or small. There are the books I pick up when I can’t sleep and am filled with the kind of grim thoughts that you only get at 3am. And the stories I crave when homesickness strikes (I’m from the UK). And the poetry I read aloud to myself whenever a particular kind of melancholy takes hold….
I could go on (I’m a gloomy sort and the list is long) but I’m curious about other people’s lists. What books do you turn to when facing an ordeal, or dealing with sorrow, or simply trying to get through the ordinary ups and downs of everyday life? My guess is that they are somewhat unpredictable choices, quirky, a little foolish perhaps or maybe just the opposite. I feel sure some are stories that you’ve loved forever while others are strangers that you only met by chance.
Whatever they are, I know they are deeply personal. And while some you may never read again, others will be companions for life.
When you feel most alone, what are the books that hold your hand?
Tania Unsworth’s debut children’s novel, The One Safe Place (published in the US by Algonquin Young Readers and in the UK by Orion Children’s Books) has been described as “a timeless story that deserves to become a children’s classic for decades to come” by the Christian Science Monitor and has received starred reviews from Kirkus and the School Library Journal. It will be out in paperback early 2015.
Nerdy Book Club 
I remember very clearly sitting in my parents’ house passing around collections of Calvin and Hobbes with my brother’s friends when he passed away. I don’t remember other specific titles that I have gone back to whenever I have needed the opportunity for escape and comfort – but I do know that I have gone to the pages of books for relief from whatever stresses and strains and grief that life has thrown my way. I look forward to seeing what titles people share here.
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. It’s a long read, but so beautiful. The Harry Potter series is also an old friend. When I was having a tough time with my family the Twilight series was a source of mindless comfort.
When I want to sink deeply into a book, I still turn to Tolkien, loving the story of their quest to do what is right against high odds. But when I knew my husband would not be with me for long, I read Roger Rosenblatt’s books, Making Toast and Kayak Morning, trying to find some comfort by looking at what others thought when grieving. Thanks for your very honest post.
I know what you mean about quest stories, Linda. So sorry about your husband.
Thank you Tania, & I forgot to say congratulations on your book. I read some of the reviews, & it sounds very good.
In the past few years, people I know that have lost loved ones couldn’t even think about picking up a book. It was probably a mixture of not being able to concentrate and guilt. That step in grieving where you feel too guilty to be happy: “How am I ever going to laugh again?” One of my friends took a couple of years to really enjoy reading again. One of the worst things you can do is to tell that person HOW to grieve. It is such a private, individual emotion. When I notice that I’m not listening to music, I realize something is stressing me out big time. Luckily, that doesn’t happen very often, and I’ve always found that reading can cure most ails, thank goodness! I can be so mad about something, but within minutes of picking up my current read, my anger vanishes and then I feel silly. Harry Potter and picture books are my comfort choices. Wonderful article, thank you, and I will put your book on my long list of “want to read”.
I think you raise a great point. There are times when even reading fails. Even for people who live for reading and writing. Just when words – any words – simply lose their meaning for a while. Hopefully these times are very few and far between!
It seems every year as December approaches, I get more and more stressed. For years I have been checking out the audio version of WINTER SOLSTICE by Pilcher. It is a most comforting saga. I’ve also been guilty of listening to Grishams’ PLAYING FOR PIZZA whenever I need an uplift. I never tire of reading WINTER’S GIFT by Donovan and RIPTIDE by Weller to my students. My new favorite is FLORA AND ULYSSES by DiCammillo. What could be more profound than Squirrel Poetry?
When grieving I have been comforted by the words from Watership Down: “My heart has joined the thousand, for my friend stopped running today.” After a much beloved cat passed a couple of months ago, I started with the story of El-Ahrairah and the Black Rabbit of Inle. From there to the end, I did a “good parts” reading. The experience had as much tears as healing.
Yes, WD has stayed with me too. I quite often think about the way the rabbits respond to the news of the destruction of their home warren and how it differs from our – human – reaction to tragedy.
I am sick with a chronic disease that causes a lot of pain, fatigue and some brain fog (among other things). During the past year, I have developed an addiction to YA & NA novels featuring fantasy, sci-fi, and some dystopian literature. I have a long list of favorite authors & always grab up their new releases. I have a book blog on WordPress called Reader Reviews and News ( http://myreadereview.wordpress.com/ ) and on Facebook called My Bookbag ( https://www.facebook.com/readerreviewbookbag?ref=aymt_homepage_panel )
Tania,
Similar to you, I lost my mom a little over 2 years ago. While I don’t remember specific titles, I do remember that reading was the only thing that provided a small bit of comfort. For a short period of time, I could lose myself in the story.
I enjoyed this post very much, and I’m so sorry for your loss.
Thank you Allison. What would we do without books?
I often turn back to the Chronicles of Narnia series by Lewis when life gets stressful, but I also have a fondness for A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce after reading if in high school.
The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe for me…escaping from the war-torn reality of England into a world committed to beauty and justice gives me comfort. Love this post. Thanks for writing!
So true that reading does allow you to have some relief from the grieving process. It also prepares you for what is to come when it comes to losing a loved one. I was in the last chapters of “Still Alice” when my mother lost her battle to Alzheimer’s. It was a good friend that actually turned me on to the book, when my mom’s CAT scan showed that her brain was starting to shrink. Lisa Genova’s words allowed me to get through the final days of my mother’s life.
A good read always gives us all such a great opportunity to escape and prepare for circumstances that come before us each and every day of our lives!
So true that reading does allow you and prepare for the grieving process. It also prepares you for what is to come when the final battle arises and is time to let go of a loved one. I was in the last chapters of “Still Alice” when my mother lost her battle to Alzheimer’s. It was a good friend that actually turned me on to the book, when I placed on my FB status that my mom’s CAT scan showed that her brain was starting to shrink.
I was so lost in the needs of my students, my mother, my father, and my husband, that I was not even aware of “Still Alice.” Thank God for my friend, otherwise, I do not think I could have handled the load. She gave me courage through her book club choice and allowed me to get into the mind of Alice and help me to understand all the moments that I had lived with my mother.
Lisa Genova’s words allowed me to get through the final days of my mother’s life.
A good read always gives us all such a great opportunity to escape and prepare for circumstances that come before us each and every day of our lives!
My go to books are regency historical romance novels, especially those by Julie Garwood. This blog post talks about the last time I indulged in my comfort books. http://whatstheword-saywhaaat.blogspot.com/2014/05/battling-disappointment.html