on the life-changing joy of re-reading books

i'm on a new book diet this summer and loving it

The chair pictured above is where I’ll be spending most of my summer holiday. Not that I take holidays as a writer. I just consume a great deal of ice cream and read a lot more.

Earlier this year, after a decade of living in book-chaos, I finally organised my home library into some semblance of order. I wrote about the ad hoc organisational system I developed for my bookshelves here on Juvenescence and the discussion it provoked has stuck with me. Six months later I am pleased to say my new library system is still very much in tact. I wish I could say the same about my spice rack or my sock drawer, but I am multitudes and perfect is not one of them. Whevs.

To say my newly organised library has improved my life would be an understatement. It has been utterly transformative, and not just in terms of housekeeping. Having a well-organised library has led to an absorbing re-kindling of my lifelong passion for books of all periods and genres, not to mention a significant cost and time savings. There really is no point in having loads of books if you can’t find the one you’re looking for, literally ever. That it took took me an entire quarter century to learn this lesson pains me deeply. These days, not only do I know where to put the new books I’ve just finished (or more occasionally given up on), I know where to find the old ones I want to revisit. This has changed everything.

After delving deep into the joys of re-reading earlier this year, I decided to put myself on a semi-strict ‘re-reading diet.’ I still occasionally buy and read new titles here and there but I try to keep it to the ones that get sent to me by writers and publishers. The rest I’ll buy in paperback, borrow or request as gifts. The results this new regime are remarkable. If you are trying to cut back on spending and clutter this summer I suggest you join me on my re-reading diet. The rules are as follows: When you find yourself thinking, ‘I need a new book,’ instead of petitioning your friends or Google, stand up and wander over to your nearest shelf and take down a volume you remember having loved at some earlier point in your life. Then read it.

That’s it.

Not only have I staunched the nightstand guilt pile up, I’ve been thoroughly enjoying myself too. Contrary to popular believe, re-reading isn’t stale. On the contrary, it’s exciting, one of life’s great unsung extended pleasures. It’s like revisiting old friends and finding you still adore each other — the years apart evaporate, leaving you wondering why you left it so long to reunite. It’s ecological and free and luxurious too. As book lovers, we should all be doing more of it. And yes I know the one down side is that if everyone just re-read stuff all the time it would be a disaster for the publishing industry, which is why you can (and should) continue to support writers directly — for instance, by clicking the green button below.

In my teens and early twenties I devoured books at an alarming pace. I was constantly ravenous, a bottomless pit. Come to think of it, I ate and drank and slept a lot more then too… which makes me wonder if human brains also have metabolic rates?

Part of it, I think, was just young Leah trying to ground herself as a reader. I wanted to get a grip on the world and I was in a rush to do so. But a great deal of what I read back then, including most of the ‘classics’ really just seemed to wash over me. My brain was supple and toned but I had far less experience to draw on. I often struggled to connect with the characters, which meant fewer revelations, connections and moments of ecstatic, blistering insight or feeling. I was always in a rush to get to the next book. This time round I am reading at whatever pace suits me. Some books I savour slowly and carefully, others I just dip in here and there. There are no rules with re-reading. The second or third time round you can chart your own course.

Books are miraculous to me because unlike other pleasures involving tangible places, people and things, books can be re-experienced precisely the same way over and over again. You can go back and step into rich remembered landscapes and precisely nothing has changed. You can walk through the same rooms, taste the same meals, admire the view and encounter the same characters (even live inside their heads for a time!). Books are constant. Everything is the same. Only you, the reader, are different. When we re-read, we are not just circling old ground, we are meeting and re-connecting with past versions of ourselves and understanding how and why we have changed. By catching up with Lady Chatterley and the game keeper, we can gauge how the passing years have altered and enriched our own perspective. We can re-examine ourselves indirectly, standing to the side and measuring ourselves. I find this truly magical.

Perhaps I need more excitement in my life. No matter.

Below is my re-reading stack for this summer, in no particular order. As you can see it contains fiction and non-fiction, old titles and relatively new. There is one brilliant book of poems, a dreamy self-reflection by Carl Jung, some Penelope and Alice and Lawrence and Nancy Friday, whose best-selling collection of female fantasies from the late 70s would never get past the industry censors today. A fascinating reminder of how censorious contemporary feminism has become.

I’m about a third of the way through the pile present. I might skip around if I feel like it too. I also have a stack of new titles which I’m also happy to share — if you’re curious just say so in the comments and I’ll post it as well.

Please do share your own re-reading list below, if you happen to have one. What are you going back to this summer? What re-reads have you enjoyed most? Which books have you been disappointed by the second time round? I’m genuinely interested. Yes it’s possible I need more excitement in my life. Ah well.