The Wisdom and Joy of the Re-Read

First of all: Perseverance is Rewarded

Once upon a time, in high school, I was assigned to read a book: The Abolition of Man, by C.S. Lewis.

For those who have read it, you’ll understand why the average Oklahoman teenager (such as myself) might not have totally grasped every last inch of that slim but punchy volume.

For those who haven’t read it, you definitely should. It’s an eloquent treatise on morality by C.S. Lewis, refuting moral relativism, and using a lot of Latin phrases and whip-smart vocabulary that I had never heard a day in my life.

So yeah. I wasn’t totally tracking. But I WANTED to get it. It was like I could almost see it and I wanted to get glasses so I could really see it. I sat down and tried reading it a second time. I still felt like I was missing something. I was a smart-ish kid, and got good grades and read good literature, but at the end of the day some of this was just going over my head.

But I was also a very stubborn, dogged kid. This can have very good and very bad results: ask my mom or dad. They can tell you all about each.

So I looked up all the Latin phrases and wrote them down on index cards. I went to Barnes and Noble (41st and Yale to be exact) and sat in the cafe area with The Abolition of Man, a dictionary, and those index cards. Off of the top of my head, some 24 years later, I still remember the phrase Pons Asinorum being the first key to unlock the meaning of one particular paragraph. Which is ironic and thematically satisfying to me as I write these words right now, if you happen to know what pons asinorum means.

Dawn broke. The book was opened to me. Its riches were scattered across my skin and poured into my soul. It became one of my favorite books of all time. And I became a different kind of reader. One who actually enjoys a book that necessitates some bouldering and scrambling, so to speak.

It took 3 tries, y’all. THREE.

Second of all: Comfort

But that sounds tedious and studious and schoolish, you say? Maybe. But that’s only ONE reason to re-read. To better understand a complicated or advanced text.

BUT WAIT. There’s more.

I am a huge proponent of the comfort re-read. Mara Daughter of the Nile, Surprised by Joy, Anne of Green Gables, and The Blue Sword have been these for me throughout the years. It give the regular joy of a morning cup of coffee or your favorite hoodie. Heretics, by GK Chesterton. All the Narnia books.

Some people think of a comfort read as something “light” and “easy.” Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. That doesn’t really matter. The ease comes not from the language or themes or story, but from familiarity. And if the book is really good, not only does it hold up to the re-read, it is enhanced by it.

Each time you go back to that comfort read you see AGAIN why it is you love it, why you cherish it, why it brings you joy or conviction or hope or release of emotion or inspiration.

People do this with tv shows too, especially when they are tired and not in the mood for novelty, but rather for old friends. “Scrubs” is my comfort re-watch and whenever my husband and I watch it again, I’m not just zoning out with background noise, but I am in fact–as an author–highly attuned to the story-telling and characterization and what makes it warm, funny, endearing, and successful. Nothing is new, but much is discovered.

And the episodes I love most still charm me thoroughly. They do not dull with time, they only shine brighter with the warmth of knowing. A bad story won’t usually do that.

Third of all: A Second Chance

C.S. Lewis was once asked what he thought of the book A Canticle for Liebowitz. I LOVE that book, so I was thrilled to find he’d read it and was very intrigued to read his answer. He didn’t give much of one. He said he’d have to read it a second time before he could fully form an opinion on the matter.

It was as if he was saying that a book hasn’t really been read till its been read twice.

That may seem a little extreme, but I think there’s something to it. And I don’t know if C.S. Lewis ever got to read A Canticle for Liebowitz a second time. But I have. And, honestly, I think it’s due for a third round some time soon.

The point is, you don’t meet someone one time and say you know them. You don’t visit a city once and say you’ve got a bead on the place. You don’t eat a delicious meal one time and then swear it off for the rest of your life.

Whether you loved the book or merely liked it, a second read will crack open its beauty all over again, and reveal ones you never could have noticed the first go ’round. Does this mean I’m going to re-read The Brothers Karamazov again someday? Maybe. Intimidating, but maybe. I suspect there is a lot I don’t know from one mere meeting.

This entire post was inspired because I am re-reading a book called The Scorpio Races. I have three short chapters left, to be precise.

I read it many years ago at the behest of one of my dearest friends. I really liked it. I supposed it might be worth a re-read (my friend re-read it multiple times) but I never managed to give it one. But I so happened to join a read-along this year which committed me to the task.

And I have loved it SO MUCH MORE this time. One minor quibble remains (my goodreads shall know of this) but many things that kept it from being an all-time favorite have melted away with time and maturity and perspective, and the book seems richer and more beautiful to me now that it did that first time. It’s loveliness shines. I like the characters better. The moments were more tender. Instead of seeing the characters more as peers or trying to self-insert, I see them as a mom, looking at very young people who are lonely and hurting and trying to make their way in the wide, wild world as best they can.

For this reason when I make my “Things I shall read in 2025” list or whatever such future lists, I think I would do well to make sure that a good number of these are re-reads. I have many casual acquaintances with books. I should like them to become more intimate friends.