I will read any book about reading, as you might be aware if you’re a regular reader of Stuck in a Book. Some of them are among my all-time favourites, and some of them are a little more – if you will – by the book. But I’d heard wonderful things about Dear Reader by Cathy Rentzenbrink, published last year, given to me by my bro, and which I read on Christmas Day. It turned out to be the perfect Christmas book – and one of my favourite books about books that I’ve read for years.
As I lie there, surrounded by boxes, looking up at the half-filled shelves, at the books that have followed me from place to place, I find my answer. I will be my own doctor and prescribe the best medicine: a course of rereading. I will make piles of my most treasured books and read through them, taking comfort not only in each book itself but also in the reassuring knowledge that there are many more to come. Something shifts in my body. I feel better already, just at the thought of turning off my phone and spending my evenings curled up with a good book. This what I have always done. When the bite of real life is too brutal, I retreat into made-up worlds and tread well-worn paths. I don’t crave the new when I feel like this, but look for solace in the familiar. It is as though in re-encountering my most-loved fictional characters, I can also reconnect with my previous selves and come out feeling less fragmented. Reading built me and always has the power to put me back together again.
I didn’t mean to quote that much, but I couldn’t stop once I started. I’m not a big re-reader myself, but I definitely retreat to familiar genres and authors, if not particular books – and I love that final line, there.
Despite this intro, Dear Reader isn’t really about a series of re-reads. It’s more of a memoir of reading life – one that feels universal, while also obviously being specific to Rentzenbrink. And her life has been fully surrounded by books. We see her first forays into discovering narratives and characters, and realising the joy that they could bring – and when she was having difficult times at school, books were a refuge. Many chapters end with a series of recommendations for books relating to the period of her life in question, and they are great lists, recommended with the happy fervour of any enthusiastic reader. Some themes are enjoyably unusual – like the list of books about pubs, when her dad became a pub landlord when Rentzenbrink was sixteen.
But books aren’t just part of Rentzenbrink’s social life. She goes into working in bookselling – and it’s a fascinating look behind the curtain. She starts in the book department of Harrod’s, and it’s always fun to read behind-the-curtain experiences of working in customer service. There are certainly stories of silly requests and unreasonable members of the public, but there is also a warmth to Rentzenbrink’s writing. We all love Shaun Bythell’s biting memoirs of bookselling, but this is not that – Rentzenbrink is thrilled whenever she can engage with an interested reader, and her favourite thing is to recommend books. We can all empathise.
The book follows her bookselling journey as she takes on more responsibility at other shops – organising events, arranging displays, choosing books. She goes up and up, and has such fondness for her colleagues and her experiences. What survives throughout is her passion for reading and for encouraging others in their reading lives. She is not a pollyanna, and there are difficult stages to her life too – but this is still a delightful read. The subtitle of Dear Reader is ‘the comfort and joy of books’, and there are few books about books that are more comforting or joyful than this.