I have this theory that good books are all hidden between the covers that bind them, in the sale section of a bookstore, or behind bad reviews. The truth of a good book is that you really can't make a judgment of it until you've actually taken the time to read it yourself. Everything about a good book discourages you, that's why half the satisfaction of finishing a book is knowing that you found it.
Good example: I was in Chapters yesterday (with uber cool) and we were looking for cool books, like life inspiring. So we found this one called Living in the Moment. The cover was a gross turquoise-y colour and the font was too boxy to be anywhere near appealing. The back just had praise from a few newspapers and magazine's neither of us had never heard of, and the inside cover talked about something that failed to catch our attention. But we opened the book anyways, and we started reading.
And it was good. It was really good.
Why do all the good books hide? Why does anything hide? I think it's a sort of filter, or a lesson. A good book is like a good friend and a good friend has a story.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment