Dear Fahrenheit 451

Anna, I don’t have one unkind word to say about you – because I haven’t read you. Perhaps, it’s just not our time. There will come a day, probably, when I get a hankering for a bleak 864-page novel translated from Russian. But until that day, back to the shelves you go.

I tried to look up ‘goodbye’ in Russian, but it’s really hard to spell. So, just – Goodbye, Annie.

I have to remind myself, once a book is written it’s in the hands and minds and hearts of the reader. I do believe that. Whatever you did or didn’t do for the people in this group is their own affair and no impeccably designed book discussion is going to eclipse a reader’s original, visceral reaction. After tonight, you’ll be passed onto siblings, spouses, children, and friends or go back to your home library. It’s fitting that you journey from reader to reader, looking for a comfortable fit. You could be met with ambivalence or you could make someone hungry for samosas or you could redefine a life. Rename it, one might even say. See what I did there? God, I’m good at book talks.

If you’re reading this, chances are you’ve experienced bouts of antisocial behaviour and ‘read rage’ outbursts toward friends and family. Because, although you participate in society as much as necessary to convince your mom and the shrink your mom hired that you’re not a shut-in, truth is, you’d rather be reading than doing just about anything. Did you think it was just you? It’s not. You’ve just never met any of the others, because we don’t want to talk to you either.