jueves, 2 de junio de 2011

Let them speak.

“Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.”

“Era ya de noche, una noche de finales de mayo, y un chico de trece años subía en bicicleta por una carretera comarcal bordeada de altas coníferas, de regreso a su casa, una granja junto a un pequeño bosque.”

“My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down.”

That’s how my 3 book crushes began. So simple. Like there’s nothing special in the story, like nothing can make you keep reading.

Books are ...
For me, some of them have been an opened door to another world, and not necessarily a fictional one. Sometimes they show us new feelings, new meanings to a real situation.
Just like a song, they help you understand so many things that happen in your life...
You can fall in love with a character, you can hate it, you can learn to understand what he/she goes through... and when the story’s over, it really never is, because it’s been so long since you first started reading, that it’s part of your life now.
If you feel something when you’re reading, that means the story’s already yours. You have lots of memories from something that you’ve never really experienced, but it hurts like you did.

How is it possible to have feelings for something you haven’t lived?

It’s as simple as this: you meet the character like a total stranger, trying to remember what he/she looked like, but inwardly inventing his/her own appearance. Most of the main female characters I’ve read about ended up looking like me in my mind. That’s why it’s hard for me to let go of the story. Because deep inside I’ve seen myself doing magic, lost in the woods, or running in a tower with a sword made of fire on my right hand.

After a while, you already sort of know what the character is going to do in almost every situation, and then, right there, when you didn’t expect it, he or she does something that is totally out of character. The truth is, however, that it’s not out of character, it’s out of what YOU would’ve done. At that point, you realise you’re trapped in the book, somehow.

I normally read the books I love more than 2 or 3 times. Some people don’t understand why. They’ve told me that I already know the story, that there’s no mistery in reading it again. For me, every time I read a novel again, it tells me something different. It also happens with music. Maybe you love that song because it describes perfectly your situation, but after a few months, if you listen to it again you have to put yourself in a different perspective. And the result is amazing. Same thing with books. Maybe that character you’ve always hated starts to look different after a few times... And maybe that ideal love that you read about becomes completely nonsense to you now.

A book is not only a situation in a place with some people interacting. It’s a thought, a feeling, a way of coping with things, a solution or a problem. It can be your ruin or your blessing. It can save you from your worst day, or it can make it even worse.

But it’s not in my nature to regret anything I’ve done, so those books are not an exception.

I lived through them, thinking about their stories, and they caused me pain and several arguments with people in real life, but they also gave me more life than I could ever dream of. And I keep living.

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