I’ve lived with depression and anxiety on and off for thirty years, and in that time I’ve learned to recognise some of the early warning signs. The one with the flashing red klaxon is when I lose interest in reading. As someone who usually reads somewhere between 60 and 80 books a year, it becomes obvious pretty quickly that something is wrong.
The problem with starting a new book is that it takes energy. There are new characters to remember, a new world to understand, new rules to learn… All this at a time when I can’t remember where I put my car keys, or if I took my medication that morning. When my concentration is poor, the things I love can feel like work.
That’s when I reach for my six favourite series. In no particular order my comfort reads are:
Discworld by Sir Terry Pratchett
Outlander by Diana Gabaldon
The Chronicles of St Mary’s and The Time Police by Jodi Taylor
Rivers of London by Ben Aaronovitch
The Realm of the Elderlings by Robin Hobb
And the audiobook wildcard… Cabin Pressure by John Finnemore
There’s comfort in returning to a familiar book. It’s my favourite place and my favourite people. I don’t have to work as hard. I understand the world and its rules. If my attention wanders for a page or two, it doesn’t matter, the characters forgive me. And I already know how the book makes me feel, so no nasty surprises.
Discworld gives me witches, wizards, guards and Death. Outlander gives me enormous historical sweep, and a love story that quite frankly makes me envious, I mean, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve wished someone would rescue me on horseback. St Mary’s gives me historians careering disastrously through time, while the Time Police attempt (with varying degrees of success) to stop them. Rivers of London gives me modern policing, magic, ghosts, gods, and a London stranger than the one on the Tube map. And Cabin Pressure gives me people trying hard at the thing they love and mostly failing.
They share a few things in common. They’re all full of characters with distinct personalities, complicated loyalties, and long histories with one another. There’s humour, even when terrible things are happening. There’s friendship, found family, resilience, and the sense that life continues beyond the edges of the page. And they all have their own kind of magic, which is what’s sorely needed when the real world is dark and stressful.
The first time through a book, the plot pulls you forward. You want to know who survives, who falls in love, who committed the murder...
On a reread, that uncertainty is gone. The familiarity lowers the barrier to reading. I don’t have to summon enthusiasm for the unknown. I can pick up a book knowing that inside its pages are people, places, and moments that have made me happy before. And sometimes you notice other things, too. A joke you missed. A piece of foreshadowing. A character who behaves differently once you know their motives. A quote that means more because you’re older than you were when you first read it.
So, yeah. I definitely think rereading doesn’t get enough credit. Goodreads, where I keep track of my books, only allowed rereads to count towards its annual reading challenge about a decade ago. And then there’s a pressure on social media to keep up with new releases, new authors, new recommendations… Which is wonderfully exciting when you have the energy, and daunting when you don’t.
Readers, full disclosure. I’m on my eighteenth Discworld book of the year. I admit, life’s been stressful lately. But rest assured I am happy. And I’m taking care of myself.
Besides, there are worse places to retreat to than Ankh-Morpork. Mind you, the pies leave a lot to be desired.