I’ve always appreciated the curious resolve of arriving late to a party. When you’re early, everything is just a little too quiet. It’s exciting and beginning to bustle but after it's begun to fizzle a bit, more shoes shuffling their sore heels back to where they came, the truth of it all begins to reveal itself. Floors dirty, streamers hanging limply, with a possible bottle cork or two littering the countertops, the gritty beauty steps out from the darkness.
There are books that I have read months, sometimes even years, after their initial, popular and highly-anticipated debut. And I’m not the only one. Always being early to the best-seller party is tricky, producing a cohort of many readers and consumers alike that despise b
eing left in the dust of other people's opinions. No doubt, reading a book years after its publication and having something to say about it will likely result in those opinions getting drowned out by that of others. Although, the more books I read and the older I get, the pressure I once assumed to constantly stay on top of what’s new in the literary world seems to be dissolving.
This doesn’t mean I don’t read any new, popular books or that I intentionally shield my eyes from the new releases shelf at the bookstore (despite their hardcover temptations). I would be lying if I didn’t admit to attending one of the many hundreds of midnight release parties for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows that occurred in 2007. However, no matter when I read a
book, the ability to love, hate, or forget it all the same is as possible then as it would have been if I had read it the same week it was released.
I’ve never been one of those lucky folks that can plan out their monthly reads in advance. I hold a firm ideology that influential creations find you when you nee
d them. In other words, I trust what books I gravitate towards rather than chasing the newest thing. All in all, I go off a “feeling” more often than not, making me the least punctual, most outdated book reviewer there ever was. Perhaps I’m alone in my sentiments but I like to believe there is a place for these delayed reviews. The afterthoughts of a book that stays with you for weeks; the satisfying analysis of reading a well-known classic for the first time, developing your own connection to the tale. And
why shouldn’t there be a place for these thoughts when there are so many works that are everlasting?
There are many books I love which I hope never stop being relevant. Brit Bennett’s 2020 novel, The Vanishing Half, being one of them. I read this brilliant story almost an entire year after its publication, hearing countless glowing reviews from every direction. Upon reading it, it was evident as to why. Bennett’s writing is cinematic; the narrative demands attention from the reader, leaping from moment to moment, past to present, like the mind might when
recalling a lifetime of memories. Each page tempts… every character enthralls, making the reader lose their wits at times. I had to remind myself of their fictitious nature and that there was no Mallard, Louisiana to turn to on a map. When going to the grocery store or taking my dog for a walk, I would hesitate to think that Stella or Jude (my personal favorite) might stroll past me like a remarkable ghost. It would trul
y be criminal if this marvel of literature ever stopped being relevant for other readers that will come to know its lessons, compassion, and beauty.
On the other hand, there are books that have remained relevant during, and long after, my delayed interaction with them that I dearly hope, someday, will no longer be so culturally relevant. Know My Name by the marvelous Chanel Miller, sadly, continues to be more relevant than ever, even after many years since Miller’s life was unjustly changed forever.
This book quickly became one I read
many times, and it should never stop being read for its candor, humor, and infinite heart. But, I hope that Miller’s life is no longer referenced as a cautionary tale or one that so intimately reflects the horrors and trauma of many others. I hope it becomes a reflection for a generation of boys and girls that understand well the value of each individual's autonomy of their body. I hope they’ll read it and truly be shocked at the injustices that they know as a past rather than an all too common present.
So, yes, late to the party indeed. I often miss the early excitement of a book's first steps into the world, but I get to feel it flourish around me before knowing it for my own. The beauty of reading these books, acknowledging their personal and cultural impact at any point, lies the mark of experience; everlasting humanity once countless eyes have read the same words, held the same story between the palms, gravitating toward a shared emotion, laughing, learning, crying, and yearning the same for just one more page.
What a marvelous gift it is that authors, musicians, and creators of all things that soar, allow us this intimacy with a creature all their own. There is no greater after party.
Don’t believe me? Check out these everlasting books yourself:
The Vanishing Half by Britt Bennett
Hardcover | $27.00
Published by Riverhead Books | 352 pages (https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/576782/the-vanishing-half-by-brit-bennett/)
Know My Name: A Memoir by Chanel Miller
Paperback | $18.00
Published by Penguin Books | 384 pages
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