Updated: Nov 18, 2020
Last Saturday I had to pack my whole house for our big move. By six o’clock I was exhausted, I truly considered throwing everything I owned in a black bin bag and right to the curb it goes. While I moaned like the little sad baby I was, my husband offered to draw me a bath and watch The Princess Diaries.
I’m thirty years old. I have a husband to draw my baths, thank you very much, and still The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot had such impact in my early teens that to this day it’s my go to when I am upset. It reminds me of my mother’s home when I could read and relate to Mia in a great level, besides the whole Princess of Genovia thing.
Books have so much power over people’s lives, bookworms and normies alike, that its impact can translate to everything. The music we only got to know because it was from a soundtrack of a film (which usually was a book first), the actors and influencers we follow on social media. It’s always around us, a book that becomes a film, a TV series, an album and a video game.
At the same time, on occasion a book will remain a book and still it will hold such a power over the reader that it can mutate to a security blanket. The way I put on comfy clothes and get a cup of tea when the day isn’t the best, and off I go reread Wait For It by Mariana Zapata, or when I’m in a serious need of a laugh, Ball Peen Hammer by Lauren Rowe is the right choice for me.
And what about when an author is so special to us that we have to wait the best moment to start their new book? Because we crave to have good memories attached with new titles, while other books carry memories of their own.
That particular Saturday night ended well, I threw a sparkly bath bomb in, and my husband fetched my favourite wine. Later, I watched The Princess Diaries and on the next day? I was good as new.