I have books that I love, whose pages are all scrinkly because I dropped them in the bath that have been read and reread, visited often like an old friend.
I have books that I read for peace, quiet calm meditative books that I turn to when my brain is too full for anything else.
Books make me cry - I can go and see the saddest movie in the world and be saddened but no tears, and yet to read the same story would have me weeping uncontrollably.
I have books that I gobble up greedily the minute they are released because I love the author and I know what to expect and how their rhythm works.
There are books I read for work, that are not literary masterpieces but they have just the right amount of toilet humour to encourage young kids to read, so I love them for that.
There are books that have left little shadows of themselves within me, and there are books that haunt me, stories or characters that are so real that I grieve a little when there is no more story to read.
There are books that sing, and flow and are easy to devour, that are uplifting.
and then there is this book.
which is all of the above and more.