“The books in Mo and Meggie’s house were stacked under tables, on chairs, in the corners of the rooms. There were books in the kitchen and books in the lavatory. Books on the TV set and in the closet, small piles of books, tall piles of books, books thick and thin, books old and new. They welcomed Meggie down to breakfast with invitingly opened pages; they kept boredom at bay when the weather was bad. And sometimes you fall over them.”
p. 4, Inkheart by Cornelia Funke

Cracked spines, coffee stained pages, and dried flowers are elements of the books that make up my library. Over the years, I’ve garnered quite the collection of poetry, fiction, translated stories, and the odd encyclopedia or two. Many of my books have been on my shelves since I was a child, while others have been gifted by friends or found in the corners of flea markets. I adore used books over brand new because of the treasures that are pressed between the pages. I’ve discovered plane tickets, love letters, café receipts, newspaper clippings, and handwritten scribbles across the chapters of these novels. New books promise the excitement of a fresh beginning, while weathered covers and dog-eared pages carry the remnants of past memories.

There’s a small shelf in my library that holds the novels I’ve deemed most important in my life. It’s from this shelf that I choose which book to take with me when I step outside my front door. These stories feel like trusted companions and deserve to partake in whatever journey lies beyond the bend. Such titles include The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes, The Odyssey, Wuthering Heights, Till We Have Faces, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, Little Women, Peter Pan, Death in the Castle, etc (We should probably have a cup of tea if I’m to list all of my favourites, so we’ll just stick to a few for now). Among such stories are a few novels that are prized above the others. Not for monetary value, but prized both for the sake of sentiment and the longevity of lasting comfort that these tales continue to provide throughout my days.

“If you take a book with you on a journey,” Mo had said when he put the first one in her box, “an odd thing happens: The book begins collecting your memories. And forever after you have only to open that book to be back where you first read it. It will all come into your mind with the very first words: the sights you saw in that place, what it smelled like, the ice cream you ate while you were reading it… yes, books are like flypaper—memories cling to the printed page better than anything else.”
p. 15, Inkheart by Cornelia Funke

I was first lent a copy of Cornelia Funke’s book, Inkheart, by a classmate when I was just shy of eleven years old. The story follows a young girl whose father has the gift of reading the words of any book to life. The characters embark on quite the journey and their story introduces the most wonderful forms of magic and imagination to the reader. The fantastical elements and daring adventures made for a most thrilling read in my younger days, and although I returned the book to my classmate, the story never truly left my mind. What I’d not yet realized was that the stories we read while we’re young are what shape our interests and future literary desires. Over the next several years I found myself leaning toward elements of magic and quests in the stories that I chose. Series of hidden worlds, greek mythology, quests to middle earth, and a handful of wizards came to life as I opened the pages of these precious novels. In the back of my mind, the hope of reading my favourite characters to life remained, as did the warning to be careful what you wish for. As a child, these fairytales became my playground and the characters some of my first friends.

Several years later, my father took me to a used bookshop that was tucked away on the edge of the city. It was from this shop that he brought home copies of The Iliad and The Odyssey for me to enjoy. I’d long since forgotten the title of my borrowed book from childhood, but kept the memories with me. And on my first visit to the bookshop, tucked away in the very back on the second to bottom shelf, I spied a familiar title. From the layer of dust on the spine, it had been missed by the many shop-goers who merely looked to the books that were an arm’s length around them. The red spine with gold lettering stood tall amongst its neighboring companions, and I swear to the stars that I heard the pages crying out, “Take me, choose me, read me”! What a joy to have found a copy of Inkheart to bring home.

In the time since stepping into that beloved bookshop, I’ve found myself collecting copies of this beautiful story not only for my library, but to share with others who’ve not yet had the privilege of exploring the world Cornelia so beautifully crafted. It’s fascinating to see what others think of your favourite novel and hear about what aspects of the story resonate with their thoughts.

A lovely connection I later made was that my list of favourite novels stems from the very pages of Inkheart. The novel mentions a handful of familiar stories such as Peter Pan and the Odyssey. It’s a curious thing that two shelves in my library are lined with multiple copies of both. In the pages of Peter Pan lay elements of fantasy amongst the desire to stay in the meadow of childhood. To remain somewhere softer, somewhere safer, instead of growing up and forgetting the route to Neverland. When we’re children, we see the second star to the right and a world that’s waiting for us, just out of grasp. I wonder what we see in the stars after we’re grown?

Perhaps we grow wiser on our journey much like Odysseus. Sometimes our greatest desire is to return home, to wherever or whatever that may look like. Home may be a place or a person, and we have our entire lives to discover which one it may be. Combining familiar fairy tales and myths of old with the stories of the modern era creates a fantastic connection between fact and fiction. These elements reveal themselves in stories like fragments of mirrors in which we’re bound to see ourselves. As the years pass on and we grow older, which bits will we recognize when we glance back from time to time?

“Perhaps there’s another, much larger story behind the printed one, a story that changes just as our own world does. And the letters on the page tell us only as much as we’d see peering through a keyhole. Perhaps the story in the book is just the lid on a pan: It always stays the same, but underneath there’s a whole world that goes on – developing and changing like our own world.”
p. 147, Inkheart by Cornelia Funke

The written word creates such a marvelous chance for characters and their journeys to inspire us as we forge our own paths through life. If you’re discouraged by the fact that all children do indeed grow up (except one) in Peter Pan, look to the perseverance of the heroes in The Odyssey to see just how courageous grown ups can be. If you crave an escape into the fictional world, like Inkheart, the characters could quite literally leap out of the page and into your world instead.

And if by marvelous chance you find a copy of this novel, be brave as you begin, and you might just find yourself whispering the words aloud.