Rewind. Press Play.

Why, asked someone on a list I administer, do we re-read favorite books? Why, indeed?

After all, we know what happens. We know the twists and turns of plot. We know the ending, for heaven's sake! Isn't it a waste of time to re-read something when so many other books are waiting for us, and our lives are so starkly finite?

I don't think reading literature is ever a waste of time. Engaging in the act of reading is like going to another place, changing our scenery. It makes our neurons fire in an entirely different way than does, say, watching the news or talking on the phone or walking the dog. This, to me, is A Good Thing for body, mind, and soul.

More to the point of the question at hand: Returning to a much-loved book is simply pleasurable. I'm a big believer in the power of hedonism; the evolutionarily-encoded yen for stuff that feels good is a key human motivator. Perhaps we raced through a novel on our first reading, yanked headlong by a compelling plot, and now we can savor details and nuances we missed. Maybe it has been many years since we've read a book, and what we've experienced and learned since then forms a new chemistry with the text, expanding our appreciation. Sometimes I revel in a particular writer's syntax, the way she molds and caresses words and makes characters - imaginary or real - come alive.

What books have I re-read? The old standby of junior-high reading lists comes to mind: Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird, which never fails to break my heart. Similarly, Anne Frank's Diary of a Young Girl. There are good reasons why these books are perennially assigned reading, people.


Surely by now I have re-read the six volumes of Dorothy Dunnett's epic historical-fiction series, The Lymond Chronicles, set in 16th-century Scotland, France, the Levant, and Russia, five or more times. I will always be grateful to my friend Kathy for introducing me to this saga in the early 1980s. The books - laden with perverse characters, obscure old languages, and encyclopedic literary references - aren't for everyone. I'm honored that Kathy considered me someone who would find them thrilling.

Ellen Gilchrist's short stories, particularly those about her alter ego, the flame-haired belle Rhoda (now collected in a single volume), are irresistible repeat reads. In the nonfiction realm, I read Annie Dillard's slim meditation Holy the Firm so many times, its softbound pages are falling out from wear.


Jon Hassler's several novels set in the fictional midwestern town of Staggerford stand up well to subsequent readings, as do André Dubus's short stories and essays. The "Ender" sci-fi books by Orson Scott Card proved themselves re-readable just this year; I purchased them used on Half.com so that Kevin could enjoy them as I had, and found myself sucked right back in. I can tell, somehow, that I am working myself up to re-read the copy of The Lovely Bones that I loaned to Melinda this spring. As for Barbara Kingsolver's short stories: yes! There are a few stories in the annual "Best Short Stories" anthologies that I go back to, principally a witty, poignant gem by Lorrie Moore called "Terrific Mother" (in the 1994 "best" volume). I think I have read it at least a dozen times.

Clearly, I could go on and on with this list. Merely typing these titles makes me want to dive back into some of them.

Do you ever re-read books? Which ones are worth a second glance?