09/ 15/ 2012
I have a friend who thinks re-reading books is crazy. This is one of our “we’ll never agree, so let’s not discuss it again” debates. I find that reading a book multiple times is necessary in regards to novels I really connect with. If a book is really good or really well written or seems like it was published just for you, you’ll always find new things to discover.
Seeing as I am an advocate for re-reading books, I have a short list of titles that I read annually. In order to make this list, the novel has to stick with me, so much so that I can’t go an entire year before reading it again; it has to inspire me, either through the language, plot or characters; and it has to make me happy. Eva Rice’s The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets is one such book.
Set in post-World War II London — just before Elvis became king — The Lost Art… follows the life of Penelope Wallace, a quirky teen whose once prestigious family is falling apart. One afternoon, Penelope meets Charlotte, and the two become instant best friends. However, once she enters Penelope’s life, everything changes. Penelope suddenly finds herself popular, in the middle of a fabricated love triangle and immersed in a confusing game of secret keeping.
Personally, the characters are my favorite part. Rice has a gift for making you care about people, who at times, have somewhat frivolous lives. She does this by making you sense what they do; you start to feel what the characters feel. When I read it, I become a part of the story, more like an observer than a mere reader. I also admire the consistency of each character. Each is so well written that you begin to predict their responses and reactions. Plus, I’ve got this thing for British culture… enough said.
Rice also incorporates a vital under-lying theme: the spirit of British youth following years of strife and the importance of their energy during a period of national re-growth. Rice most clearly shows this through pop-music and each of the teenaged character’s fascination with America.
It’s the perfect end of summer read. The Lost Art… makes you giggle in a girlish way, reminds you of what it’s like to be a teenager and may even restore your faith in love.
Saying you can’t re-read a book is like saying you can’t eat a dish you loved once ever again. Why wouldn’t you want to re-experience something you enjoyed? I absolutely agree with you, and not your friend. Agreeing to disagree is probably safest, though.
Caitlin, I couldn’t agree more. I find that I enjoy books even more the second time. I tend to rush though on the first read; I get too excited and need to know what’s going to happen next—the anticipation kills me. Thanks for sharing and reading my post!
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