The gift of a book recommendation

More reasons why librarians are superheroes

Photo by Tom Hermans on Unsplash

It was Christmas 2020 and I was burned out (weren’t we all?). Caring for two small children and teaching high school English while navigating a global pandemic had been an out-of-body experience. I’m young, but I’m also old enough to know that the best way to return to myself is through a book. The problem was I had zero time or energy to choose something that would lift my spirits.

So for Christmas that year, my mom and my sister, both trained librarians, gave me the perfect gift: not books, but a piece of computer paper, rolled neatly and tied with a pretty bow. When I unrolled the paper, I nearly burst into tears. It was a list of ten titles and authors, hand selected by people who know and love me better than most. It wasn’t the obligation of a stack of paperbacks – here, read these – but an invitation – whenever you’re ready, these might help.

Recommending a book, like extending an invitation, is a gift of love and comes with a risk. Both presume that the person on the receiving end would be interested in what you have to offer. When offering either, you have to be okay with receiving, “No, thanks'' as an answer. 

But here’s the thing: for a reader like me (and maybe like you), hearing “No, thanks” to a book that you recommended can be really hard. I think it’s because when I offer a book recommendation, I’m not usually saying, “I think you’d love this,” but rather, “I really loved this, and I want you to love it, too.” In this case, offering a book recommendation is extending an invitation: an invitation to relationship, to conversation, to common ground. 

So what do you do when someone doesn’t love a book that you do? Do you write that person off as crazy or uncultured or immoral? Or do you see the disagreement as its own invitation? Do you wonder if you could learn from their insights and opinions, as different from yours as they might be? 

I saw this play out in my classroom not too long ago. I had asked my students to read Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier for their summer reading assignment. I loved the big plot twists at the end of the story, but my good friend, the school’s librarian, thought that the female protagonist was too naive and a little bit whiny. My class was similarly divided: some loved it, some hated it. So, I invited our librarian to class one day to help me run a debate. We each led a team of students who shared our opinion of the book, helping them to develop and support their views with evidence from the text. And then we stepped back as the groups debated each other (in a friendly, professional way, of course).  

In my lesson plan, the objective I listed was to analyze the effectiveness of plot, character, and theme development in the novel. But the other, unwritten, and perhaps more important objective was this: “Students will be able to disagree about a book and remain friends with each other.” 

I think it worked. In fact, by the end of the lesson, my own perspective had shifted. I recognized that my friend was right – the unnamed female protagonist was a little annoying. But that didn’t negate how much I enjoyed the ending of the story. In fact, she conceded that she couldn’t put the book down at the end, either. The whole project certainly didn’t ruin our friendship, but actually strengthened it. 

In our divisive culture, it can be so easy to villainize people that we simply disagree with. What if we took the low-stakes environment of book recommendations as an invitation to wonder why and how another person sees the world differently than us? To practice compassionate, open-hearted listening and thoughtful community building? 

And then, what if we extended this practice to our spiritual lives? After all, an invitation to relationship is extended to us each and every day, from the One who gave us everything as gift. 

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What would an essay about book recommendations be without a few? Here are some contemporary books that I have loved. I hope you love them, too. 

• For adults: The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green. I have been a John Green fan for a long, long time and this collection of nonfiction “essays on a human-centered planet” feels like sitting down with him for a conversation that is equal parts funny and profound. This book had me reading hilarious passages out loud to my husband and silently weeping while I stood in line for a Covid test. It’s one of the few books in recent years that I’ve chosen to own instead of borrow because I know I will want to come back to it again and again. 

• For teens: The Dark Unwinding by Sharon Cameron. It has been a long time since I read this book, but it has stayed with me for years. It’s a YA novel in the “steampunk” genre, set in the Victorian era and written with a beautiful style. The story unfolds in such a way that it can inspire thoughtful conversation around the assumptions we hold about people who don’t fit the mold and the ways in which we can and must help people who are less fortunate than ourselves. 

• For kids: Finding Winnie, written by Lindsay Mattick and illustrated by the incomparable Sophie Blackall. I’ve read this dozens of times to my kids and I still can’t get through the last page without choking up. As a person of faith and a lover of stories, I agree wholeheartedly with Mattick: sometimes the best stories are the ones that are true. 

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Thanks for reading Wonder & Awe. I’ll be back in your inbox next month to share one of my all-time favorite lessons. In the meantime, if you liked this essay, would you forward it to a friend? Thanks for your kindness!