I encountered the quote above on Facebook earlier tonight, and I started thinking how true it is. I have definitely formed (or at least strengthened) friendships on the basis of a shared love of certain books. I love having friends with whom I can discuss the finer points of Jane Austen, or the joys of reading Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle as a child.
Perhaps this is based on the fact that people tend to make certain judgements about other people on the basis of what they are reading (“Oh, she’s reading a book by John Green, she’s probably really cool, but maybe she’s only reading it because of all the hype about The Fault in Our Stars lately,” “He’s reading a biography about Teddy Roosevelt, he must be really smart,” “The cover of that book looks really trashy, that person seems kind of shallow,” and so on).
But to be honest, if you really love a book, it makes sense that someone else who likes it will share some of the same interests you do. Reading has been such a formative experience for me that when I met someone who has read the same books that I read earlier in my life, I feel like we have a similar foundation. It gives us a shared experience to talk about.
Sometimes a friend recommends a book that you end up loving, and sometimes a book you love recommends a person you end up befriending.
Have you ever made a friend (or strengthened a friendship) because of a book?