Connections

So, I like to fancy myself a misanthrope, and say that the reason I don't talk to people is because I don't like people.  The truth is that people terrify me.  I've told a few people that they intimidate me, and they laugh and say they're not intimidating, so I laugh in return and tell them I'm intimidated by everyone.  They think I'm joking.


People expect things from me that I usually have no idea how to give them.  Everyone from complete strangers to acquaintances, coworkers, relatives, friends... they all expect things and honestly I'm usually so baffled by what those various things are that I invariably let them down.  And for someone whose primary motivator is guilt, that's a terrible thing to face. Not to mention that as soon as anyone discovers this quirk of mine, I become the most ridiculously easy person to manipulate, so I've discovered it's safer for me to avoid human interaction as much as possible.


Books on the other hand...  Books are gloriously peaceful objects.  They neither expect nor demand anything from you other than your attention.  I have never been made to feel guilty by a book. (The contents of one, perhaps, but never the book itself.)  In my About Me blurb I called books "my refuge and my sanctuary" and   I have taken advantage of that sanctuary more than once after an upsetting or confusing or hurtful interchange with another human.


It's interesting how reading is a solitary action.  And so is writing.  And yet neither could exist without the other.  The last thing that happened to me this weekend that made me decide to try out this blog experiment idea was that for the first time my reading bubble was breached.


I've been on Goodreads since November, and decided around March to start writing reviews of the books I'm reading so that I can help myself remember them later (as mentioned in the previous post: I have such a terrible memory!).  So I've been oblivously leaving review after review, generally forgetting that they're out there for other people to see and no longer just in my head.''


This weekend, I read two books by a new-to-me author and I was surprised by how much I ended up loving them.  When I read books in a series, I like to write up the review for the first before I read the second so it's not colored by the other book.  So, Sunday, I wrote my review for the first book and ended up reading the entire second book that day as well since it was amazing enough I didn't want to put it down.  When I went to write my review for that 2nd book, I found out that the author had liked my review and commented on it.  I thought "that's nice of her" and wrote my review of the 2nd book.


I've had a few moments in my life when I've heard or read exactly the words I needed to hear at exactly the time I needed to hear them, and I guess my reviews were that for this author.  She sent me a message Sunday night thanking me for what I'd said and telling me how much she'd been in need of reassurance and that my words were something she very much needed to hear.  Her message said:

"Sometimes it's difficult to know if you're touching readers the way you *want* to touch them.  As wonderful and fulfilling as it is to write, it can be lonely and isolating to be an author... Your words really touched me.  I can't describe the feeling of connection moments like this bring, but it's so incredible and amazing."


So, yes, reading is a solitary activity.  As is writing.  But this weekend I've been thinking about the connections we make through books, and I'm wondering if they might not be among the more intimate between humans.  An author puts her ideas, her emotions, her thoughts together into a story and then sends that story out into the world, hoping it's understood and appreciated.    A reader interprets the ideas, emotions and thoughts in her own way, unavoidably adding her own as she goes, and something magical is created.  Whether the experience be a good one or a bad one, the moment a reader opens a book, a connection is formed.


So maybe I don't need to beat myself up so much for running away from people and into books for all of these years.  Maybe I've been connecting all along, in my own terrified, misanthropic way.