Stories were different, though: they came alive in the telling. Without a human voice to read them aloud, or a pair of wide eyes following them by a flashlight beneath a blanket, they had no real existence in our world. They were like seeds in the beak of a bird, waiting to fall to earth, or the notes of a song laid out on a sheet, yearning for an instrument to bring their music into being. They lay dormant, hoping for the chance to emerge. Once someone started to read them, they could begin to change. They could take root in the imagination, and transform the reader. Stories wanted to be read, David’s mother would whisper. They needed it. It was the reason they forced themselves from their world into ours. They wanted us to give them life.

From The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly

Basically, if you recommend me a book about books or a book about stories, chances are I will love it and never shut up about it.


2 thoughts on “on-stories

  1. I have two for you – well, actually three, but I haven’t been able to finish the third one:
    -“Chinatown Death Cloud Peril” = real-life pulp writers on a pulp adventure, with much discussion over what it means to write/tell stories and what it contributes to the world.
    -“The Serialist” = you may have already read this one actually but Jessica gave me a copy and it’s pretty cool, aside from some slight skeeziness related to an underage female character.
    -“The Book Thief” = I couldn’t get through it because it’s ridiculously experimental, but it also goes into how vital stories are.

    • Oooooh I’ll add these to my to-read list! Though I have been avoiding The Book Thief because it’s about the holocaust and SADS. But I’ll give it a solid try!

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