Books have always been a second home to me.
No, I don’t mean that sarcastically. Yes, I realize how ridiculous and, frankly, how nerdy it sounds. Yet, I mean it genuinely.
As a child, some of my favorite memories were of hiding under the covers and reading a book with a flashlight, or reading a book cover-to-cover in one day. As an adult, some of my most monumental emotional moments (both of bliss and devastation) have not come from real life, but from books.
I have learned critical life lessons from books, and I carry around characters and ideas from books in my heart and mind as though they are my friends, or even a part of me. Books teach, heal and imprint on us in a way that I do not think other forms of media or entertainment can.
Not everyone is born a reader; I wholeheartedly believe that reading is a trait or inclination that one is either born with or not. For those who do not enjoy reading, your wallet is much better for it. And, in our present day of digital media overload and musical festival galore, there are endless entertainment options awaiting you.
For those who do enjoy reading, there are fewer opportunities to indulge in the hobby in a similar way. However, one such way is in the annual Los Angeles Times Festival of Books.
This past weekend, I was fortunate enough to spend two entire days at the festival in the company of fellow book aficionados — from authors, to vendors, to everyday readers like me.
As I am nearing the end of my undergraduate career and preparing for my next chapter of graduate school, the festival served as a respite from the throes of life. It was impeccably timed and surprisingly therapeutic to be in a space that encouraged the joy of reading and the childlike sense of wonder that comes from getting lost in a good book.
On Saturday, I sat in on a panel about literary fiction and magical realism with authors Jennifer Givhan, Peng Shepherd and V.E. Schwab. The lecture hall was entirely full, and the panel discussion transcended any possible expectation I held.
During the panel, Peng chronicled how she toyed with a story idea for seven years before writing it. Givhan told the audience about forming a story idea, and having to “write until it’s out of you.” Schwab explained that she doesn’t write stories to make readers wish for different lives, but to change their perspective on their own lives, to make them notice and appreciate things they didn’t before.
Within the span of one hour, hearing three exceptional women authors discuss representation, creativity and the magic of books kindled a sense of joy within me that was objectively ridiculous. I was so moved and euphoric by their conversation that I was nearly brought to tears by the end.
As a rational human being, I can objectively state that such a reaction is absurd. But books transcend rationality, and a good book has the ability to make even the most logical person giddy.
Secretly, I have always harbored a deep desire to be a writer. I have story and narrative ideas tucked into the corners of my mind, stored away for a day when I might take up my own pen. Givhan, Shepherd and Schwab left me feeling as though such a day was genuinely possible.
That is why spaces like the Festival of Books matter. That is the power of books.