Have you ever read a book so beautifully written, so impressively structured, and so overall mindblowing that everything you attempt to read after it seems like a dreary, more bland attempt at writing? After reading The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern, I stumbled through the rest of the day in a zombie-ish trance, paying less heed to the tasks at hand and focusing instead on the emotional jumble in my head. It didn’t come as a surprise, then, that no matter what genre I tried to pick up and read the day after that, I just couldn’t get my head into it. As an introverted bibliophile and literature lover, it soon became very distressing to me that every book I picked up seemed to bring the taste of ash when compared to the sweet tinge of Carnival popcorn and caramel apples I’d experienced reading The Night Circus.
This got me to thinking: what could the most effective way of escaping such a conundrum be? Clearly trying out new books wasn’t working out very well for me, and I was hoping to figure out a solution fast so I didn’t fall into the endless abyss of boredom and nothingness that comes into existence when I can’t muse about the perils of protagonists or ponder about the conclusion of a mystery novel.
And here I discovered the strategy that has worked for me best ever since, without fail: reverting to rereading one of my favourites, the ones that never fail me despite the pages yellowing and crumbling beneath my fingertips from having flipped so often. I take solace in my nostalgic memories of the book, and it keeps me satisfied and happy even though I know exactly what happens on every page. And once my memories have been refreshed and the emotional impact of the previous book has been slightly dulled, I’m perfectly content to discover new stories and characters that’ll leave me as speechless as the previous one.