I just finished reading, Goodbye to Clocks Ticking by Joseph Monninger. “A memoir of living with cancer.” There are a few books I was given access to from a local printing company that helped print my first book and this was one of them. It isn’t a long book which is interesting because it took me longer to get through than I had intended. It was shy of 200 pages which when I am invested in a title is usually a quick read for me. Isn’t that interesting given the title of the book? Why put any focus or give any merit to the time it takes to get through a book and how fast you can read it? I used to pride myself on reading a novel quickly. Not because it was a race to finish, but because it would have me so intrigued, I couldn’t put it down. Then before I knew it, it would end. I would feel sad to lose those characters that for a time had seemed like true acquaintances and then move on to the next book on my list. A never-ending cycle. More books that I want to read than I will have time for.

More recently, I think I have taken a different approach. This could be because I am reading a broader range of titles that make me think and contemplate meaning or because reading is something I treasure. It’s that little bit of “me time” that I want to savor like a bold and earthy vintage cabernet or a walk with my family around a pond in the spring sunshine. There were lines in this book that referenced other works of art that I added to my list. Classics that given the vehicle of “living with cancer” took on a new and deeper meaning of what it feels like when you know your body is failing you. The words seemed poetic in a sense, and I would take a moment to reread them and in my own little way give them the time and attention they deserved. At one point, while my kids were napping, I sat outside to finish the book and took a pause to watch two birds fighting in a tree in my backyard and notice the loveliness of the spring blooms. It seemed only fitting to show gratitude for such a mundane observation while thinking about the notion of not being able to live forever.

I marked passages to remember and reflect on. This one in particular stood out. “My body might be ill, I granted, but the paper worlds I had visited in my life remained vast and memorable. No matter what happened to me, no matter how the months ahead could shear me, a thousand books waited to rescue me, the simple flying carpet of print on white pages a friend as trusted as any I had ever encountered.” How stunning are those lines? As an English professor and writer, I’m sure he has many lovely lines he has created in many other works, but these reminded me of the importance of books and the power they have in the ability to transport you to another time and place. 

I started this post thinking I was going to tell you about the books that have been recommended to me over the years. The books that altered the course of my career path or life in general. But now as I bring this post to a close, I realize it’s about the beauty of sentences put together in such a way that you remember the lines years later. The wonder that is shared in the ability to read. Finding pleasure in the slow consumption of words. What a privilege to be able to sit down with a book and indulge in ideas of love, admiration, motivation, and purpose. Books are art, no matter if they end up on a “favorites” list or not. Someone took time to put their thoughts on a page and to share them with us. The least we can do is read as much as we can while we are able. So, say goodbye to clocks ticking (at least for an afternoon) and read a book, any book, even if it is one you’ve read a million times. Let the words envelop and intoxicate you. And if you are reading this and are anything like my husband who hasn’t read a book cover to cover since college, don’t worry it’s never too late to find a love for reading.

What are some memorable lines or books in general that you want to share or recommend?

Please post them in the comments section.

I hope you have a wonderful weekend and as always, happy reading.