The summer I read Gone with the Wind five times, my mother fumed, “Are you so unadventurous that you can’t pick up another book?” The implication was humiliating. At fourteen, I was a bookworm who had no admirers and only one girlfriend. Naturally, I was obsessed with the beau-magnet, Scarlett O’Hara. Never mind that she detested people like me.

Despite what more active, purposeful people like my mother (and Miss O’Hara) might think, the art of rereading indeed has a purpose. Like any form of study, rereading makes us internalize something valuable. Hence, I reread Wuthering Heights when I noticed that my first marriage wasn’t exactly the meeting of souls. There I relived the havoc resulting from bad decisions. The story comforted me if only because my mistake didn’t have such demonic outcomes. Similarly, The Return of the Soldier was a powerful cue to ascertain which of my childhood ideals were not worth losing – like the belief in love and happiness.

The Time of the Hero and White Oleander are what I call “writer rereads” because I think rereading them improves my writing through sheer inspiration.

There are also pragmatic rereads. The first three books of a fantasy series by George R.R. Martin, The Song of Ice and Fire. Yes, yes, the consuming story has the kind of characters that are so alive they show up in your dreams, but I reread it only to remind myself to never start a series that hasn’t been finished. I may never know what happens next, darn him!

There are also the great escapes – The Tale of Two Cities, Through a Glass Darkly, The Eight, and many, many more – engrossing stories that take you to another world, another experience – entertainment and adventure for those who may lack the spirit of the characters we love to read about.

Although Mom may have pinpointed my flaw, her connection was all wrong. Rereading Gone with Wind was a result not of my lack of adventure per se, but of my desire for adventure – a manual on how to attract men, get your way all the time, and get asked to dance already. Who could resist that? Recognizing that I needed some social guidance was the first step. Asking someone who essentially lived the solution — fictional character though she was — was the next step. That fall of my fourteenth year, I was asked to dance quite often. Perhaps it was Scarlett’s tricks. Perhaps it was just my newly plucked eye brows. Either way, it resulted in many adventures over many years.

What I’m Reading Now:

Silence in the Sanctuary by Deanna Raybourn

I am the Messenger by Markus Zusak

Amazing Grace by Kathleen Norris

A Mother’s Rule of Life by Holly Pierlot