These past few days I’ve come to realize that I only partially understood something I thought I did. Every comicon I’ve worked with Kevin J. Anderson, at least one or two people would come up and get their book signed and then move off to the side and break down and start crying. Many more people would come up and say, “sir. Thank you for my childhood.” Having grown up with similar things (not books back then) I understood what they meant, but not really. Not until recently.
There is a power to books. The lives that they contain are fictional and made up, but also very much real. And countless times have I heard people say, “I’ve read that book X number of times. It got me through some dark times. Thanks you!” This is a phenomenon that was never lost on me, but of which I am now more acutely aware. I think back on some of my favorite books, and how many kept me up late at night, saw me through some very difficult times, inspired me to be better, even helped me to become a better person in some ways. There is indeed something magical about books, and that is why we cherish them. The adventures, pain, loss, love, adventure, camaraderie, lessons, and power that lies within a book go beyond entertainment. Through books we heal, grow, laugh, and cry. Our library is our treasure trove, and our favorites are our most valuable gems of that treasure that we cherish…because indeed, they are part of us.