Tuesday, 25 October 2016

Bookish Enlightenments, an Uncooperative Cat, & the Snow I Didn't Bargain For

Outfit Details:

Blouse: Vintage, thrifted

High-waisted jeans: H&M, thrifted

Boots: The Bay

Jacket: Vintage, thrifted

Earrings: thrifted

I have never resonated with the idea that books are an “escape.”

I rather think that using books merely to forget about your own world is an extremely effective way of wasting their potential. A book is not alcohol, after all!

You see, I’m inclined to believe that reading is not so much a form of escapism as it is an extension of reality.

The way you perceive a book depends greatly on who you are as a person, of all the components that make you the individual that you are: the thoughts you think, the knowledge you’ve collected, the circumstances you’ve faced, the experiences—both bad and good—that you’ve lived, the places you’ve gone—or even how you imagine the places you haven’t gone—and what you see as beautiful and worthy of admiration. Whether you realize it or not, all of these things play a part in how you read.

Every person that reads a book is assisting in the creation of a work of art. Your mind melds with that of the author in a union of imagination, taking the elegant bones of the story and fleshing it out in accordance with the sights and the sounds and the smells and the sensations that you yourself have stored away in your subconscious. In other words, some assembly is required. But to heck with instruction manuals! Perhaps the creator may have intended it to be a chair, but if you can fashion it into a table, kudos to you!

Think of that one character that you relate to most of all. Perhaps everyone else on the face of the earth is indifferent to said character. But you—you resonate with this character because they display an incarnation of, perhaps, a quality in yourself that you are especially proud of, or an attitude towards life that you wish to emulate.

That line in your favorite book of poetry? Meaningless to anyone else, but somehow it awakens a nostalgia in your heart for someone or some place or some thing that you love/loved/will love. Maybe it’s something in the way the words play off your tongue when you say them, or that the idea they convey strikes a chord in you with surprising accuracy.

The one fictional place where you’ve always secretly wanted to live…it reminds you of somewhere you’ve gone to and adored, perhaps, or maybe the way you picture it in your mind captures some essential part of the you that is made up of the dreams that you dream.

These things are only the way they are because you, as a reader of words, are permitted to embrace them as your own. Whether pleasantly or unpleasantly, we are intrinsically linked to every book we read. Even in a world that differs from our own, we cannot escape our reality as humans and the lives we live because of our humanness.

No, escape is never true or total, for whether we like it or not, our past realities will always permeate our imaginary ventures.


  1. OMG you have such a cute blog here. Love your coat. :)


  2. This comment has been removed by the author.

  3. You have such great style! And I love your writing.

    Basically Beautiful

  4. Oh I absolutely agree! You could not have put this more eloquently. Thank you for the lovely read - so happy to have come across your blog :) | hayleysolano.com


Hello lovely! Thank you for reading! Please do leave a comment...your kind words will absolutely make my day!

Blog Design by Get Polished