Graduate school was a turning point in my journey, a crucible in which my passions were tempered and refined. Had it not been for this experience, I might have fallen into the trap of writing for the sake of writing, instead of embracing the importance of reading. For this, I am eternally grateful.

In an age where information is available at our fingertips, it can be tempting to believe that knowledge is all that there is to be found. Yet, the beauty of literature lies not just in the information it imparts, but in the emotions it elicits and the depth of understanding it provides. It is the pursuit of this beauty that led me to the world of books, and to question the validity of just logging titles and ratings on a social sharing platform.

The convenience of such a platform is undeniable, as it allows for a quick overview of popular books and the opinions of others. However, it is the hidden gem, the unheard whispers of literary brilliance that I yearn for. You do not find hidden gems by synthesizing people’s opinions. These are the books that linger in one’s mind long after they have been read, the books that shape our beliefs and shape our understanding of the world. What you end up receiving from them is their trace effect. Where is yours?

The path of a writer – unlike that of a reader – is one of constant failure and loss, a process of elimination that hones their skills. What do we see when we read the words of a writer? Are they simply collecting accolades for their works, or have they become a book themselves, a noble testament to their craft?

As a writer, you must constantly resurface a simple fact: books can often follow a pattern (you are not that special), and their ultimate goal (yes, books have a goal) is to provide a subjective approach to a common experience. The aim is not to conform to the expectations of you, its author, but to reconcile the experiences of own and others and find comfort in the shared journey of rejection, ambition, and abandonment. As Virginia Woolf herself wrote, “Literature is like a private language between the writer and the reader.”; an author across the room found that solace, not just in the shared experiences but in the emotions they evoke.

Self-help books bleed the self to help others; they’re not for others to help themselves to their criticism. My own lukewarm criticism of them – THAT – was the quest that led me to delve deeper into the meta process of actively seeking out books. I started with a question, a topic I wished to explore. The aim was to gather as much wisdom and knowledge as possible, and to engage in conversations that would leave me yearning for more.

For example, when delving into the topic of parenting, I wanted to understand the role of mothers and the different perspectives on motherhood. The world of literature offers a diverse range of perspectives, from descriptive accounts of the struggles and joys of motherhood, to prescriptive guidebooks, and abstract musings on the complexities of raising a child. It is in this diversity that one can find beauty, and a deeper understanding of the world.

What we arrive at; hopefully, is the pursuit of literary beauty is a journey worth embarking on. By starting with a question, engaging in conversations, and actively seeking out books, one can expand their understanding of the world and find solace in the private language of literature. The written word holds an unseen beauty, waiting to be discovered. Ignorance may be standing still, but with the right tools, it can be conquered.

In this ever-evolving landscape of publishing and writing, I am still searching for answers, still seeking to understand the metamorphosis of a young reader with eyes poring over symbols they cannot manipulate (a colored pixel on a screen, thank you Steve Jobs– you fucked us all, the world cannot possibly handle that many dreamers). The journey may be long and arduous, but I know that the beauty and wisdom contained within the written word will be my constant companion, guiding me every step of the way. Sad, but not untrue. The two things can happen at once, America.

Stop idealizing a box, only to throw it away and realize it is what is on the inside that counts. And maybe judge people by their covers.