It can be an odd thing to sit at a computer with an idea of what one wants to write about, but feeling the need to write a clever title at 11PM, when one does not feel particularly clever at all. As might be imagined, a fair bit of my life revolves around books, especially my free time. I frequently get books for free to review, and occasionally borrow books from others, especially because I am known as a generally speedy and enthusiastic reader of books, which helps me to read more books, which generally lead me to read even more books. This is the sort of virtuous cycle that never seems to end. While some people find find that reading books or engaging in any kind of similar behavior would make them particularly snobby and elitist about books, I have found that my own interests are wide and broad enough, and my enjoyment of books significant enough, that I do not feel I have gotten too snobby about books–I generally like books that are honest and open about their perspectives and approaches and also avoid insulting the ground on which I stand. As many books meet the sort of interests I have, I generally have much to enjoy when I read.

Being a fan of writing about what I read has meant that the books I have read have often inspired a fair amount of writing about books, and have often sharpened my pen as a writer as well, something I greatly enjoy. As someone who is definitely capable of being influenced by outside sources, I find a subtle influence on the way I write and the way I think based on the books I read, which leads me to be at least somewhat careful in filling my mind with solid works and trying to avoid filling my mind with flotsam and jetsam that is of no lasting value. There are enoughbooks that are of great worth and solid quality that one does not need to fill one’s time with the literary equivalent of junk food, without needing to feel snobby. Of books there is simply no end, which is true of both the writing and the reading.

Every once in a while I find that someone is interested in borrowing books from me, and takes an interest in what I have read and particularly enjoyed. For example today, as I brought one book that I had borrowed to return to its owners (for unlike many bibliophiles I am not a book thief), I also brought a book for someone to borrow who had requested it of me. It may be surprising that it is rare for me to lend out books to others, but it is rare for people to be interested in reading what I have read enough to express their desire to read it as well and to ask me about it. As a voracious reader, and someone who appreciates helping the reading appetities of others, I find that a quick way to show regard or respect is to appreciate one’s taste in books. The sharing of a good book with someone, especially as it leads to good conversation and a shared appreciation at generosity in passing knowledge along, is a good way to spark greater friendliness and intimacy. It is a pleasure I hope to have often in the future.

Books are a fitting metaphor for much of life. If we are godly, our names are written in the Book of Life. If we are not godly, we will have to face accountability to our Lord and King with the books of our deeds being brought to light to be judged by our works, which none of us ought to desire, against the standard revealed books of the Bible. As human beings our lives are like unfinished books in which we are the protagonists of all different kinds of complicated stories. Perhaps our lives are comedies or tragedies, melodramas or romances, where we are in the middle of the action, as the pages are being written, not knowing the end of our tales or the twists and turns that await us along the way. May we share our books and the knowledge contained in them freely, and may all of our books have happy endings.