The month of March is here and we embark upon a journey more wild and more educating than before. Books, widely regarded, as man’s best friend for the stoic solidarity with which they let us devour it, are nothing but a little piece of heavenly beauty. That heavenly beauty that the Lord has chipped away from the heaven of His making and sent it down to us humble Earthlings, scattering it widely so that the search of a good book is as good an experience as the act of reading it.
We human read books for totally selfish reasons and yet learn only a minute fraction of the knowledge buried within it. Reading, as a habit, is addictive no doubt, but the addiction, instead of killing you slowly, helps us live a fruitful life. They teach us how to slow down and smell the roses, as they say. They teach us to appreciate the beauty that only a few can see. There are those who don’t believe that books are a source of education.
Especially those few who ONLY read self-helps and believe that the worldly knowledge is encompassed within non-fictions only. I’d like to tell them that until they haven’t read the beauty described by Wordsworth they don’t know nature is. Unless they haven’t hungrily perused Masefield they don’t know what longing is to ones home land. Shakespeare was a master of speeches, of articulating the most basic of human expression into words, and making the audience gasp with wonder.
Reading fiction is like reading a physics book. The Theory is simple, we just don’t understand it.. but when we do understand it we wonder why didn’t we get it at the first reading. The beauty of the written word is in every syllable, in every scene, in every droplet of water that the ocean amounts to when they write of the sea, in every pollen of every flower when describing a garden.
It is we, humble humans, who lack the understanding!