#3: Book Recommendations

Man it has been a long time since I have written. I surely thought that being out of school for summer would lend itself to more blog time. I probably even intended on writing some sort of summary of the year with lessons learned, mountains climbed, and memories made. I still intend to do that, I suppose. It just feels…far off. Not as urgent as rest.

So I’m closing out the countdown – the build-up – the slow and suspenseful reveal of my top-ranked thing on a completely unsystematic ranking scale. And I’m at number 3. Which means my next one has to be the second best. And this one has to be just slightly less best. The pressure’s on.

And to be frank, I'm tired. I'm coming off a crappy work conference which turned my brain to mush: one of those forced-enthusiasm teacher carnivals where they teach us the same strategies people have been doing for decades; they just label it with their latest-and-greatest multi-thousand dollar branding. AVID, this time. "Engaging Students." Seriously, I never thought about doing that. 

Although I resent them greatly for giving me oatmeal brain during what should be the pinnacle of my blogging career, there was one highlight. It came in the English teacher breakout session, sandwiched quietly between cheesy acronym writing and miserable icebreakers. Two words, and for the first time in the entire convention center, we actually cared to get involved. Two words: Book Recommendations.

All of a sudden, people were furiously typing. Reading. Scribbling notes. Asking questions. Seeking answers. Engaged. And I realized what has to be my number 3: book recommendations from a literary community.

Book recommendations, in ways I've never really stopped to consider, have had a profound impact on my life. Even though on the surface I instinctively roll my eyes at people who post their finished books on Instagram, I'm actually deep-down grateful. I've probably read at least ten books that people have posted. 

It's also a way people have spoken wisdom into my life. Corrected things that needed corrected. Recommended reordering. Things like, "hey, I used to struggle with that. You should read __." The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry, None Like Him, You Can Change, It's Not Supposed to be This Way. God has used those books to bring repentance, reconciliation, renewal. I'm thankful for the people who mentioned them. 

I'll never forget when someone recommended Where the Crawdads Sing. I read it as fast as I could, twice. Then, with a fervor I wish would transfer to my evangelism, I texted three of my friends: Read this book. They took the recommendation and I still remember the texts they sent me. A digital gasp marking an intimate secret shared between only its readers. And suddenly, there was a deeper bond between us. We had, but for a moment, escaped to a world foreign to most - a world of swamplands and seagulls, shame and suspense. And we were closer because of it. 

Before attending the not-so-new teacher's conference, I attended The Gospel Coalition Women's Conference. Each session had a thirty minute break on both sides, with little to do but go to the bathroom and  check out the bookstore. This bookstore was prolific - stacked ceiling-high with hot-off-the-press releases and all the latest and greatest books about God, faith, and the world. Women lugged book-filled totes from session to session, only to sit down and hear more recommendations which would add to their muscle-throbbing collection. And now, we can read these together, and talk about them, and grow together, and we'll be closer because of it.

There's something incredibly endearing about someone taking your book recommendation. It's almost a discreet way of saying, "I want to know more about this world you escaped to." Sort of like asking someone how their vacation was, but instead of half-listening to a thirty second response, committing a measurable amount of time to actually trying to grasp it for yourself. It's sort of a sign of trust: I want to read what you read. A sign of humility: I'm opening myself up to growing through this book. A sign of togetherness: I want to have this shared secret with you. 

I suppose in some ways, a small part of my job is to be a professional book recommender for high school students. But I think I've often considered this haphazardly; mostly just wanting them to have a book so that they'll shut up during reading time. I wonder what change would occur if I presented it like a journey: travel with me. Let's go to the swamplands of North Carolina where Kya overcomes isolation through critters and crawdads. Let's time travel to a world full of the haves and have-nots, hoping that along the way we might build empathy and talk about it together. Let's float in the ocean for 40-something days with Louis Zamperini, punching sharks and learning what it means to survive. 

And let's recommend books to each other and read them! 

Rounding out at number 3, Book Recommendations.