Dear Reader: The Comfort and Joy of Books— Cathy Rentzenbrink
As the age old saying goes, the clue’s in the title. In this instance, the name of this book is a clear indication of what lies within its pages — an ode to literature. On one level, the book speaks directly to its reader; Cathy Rentzenbrink uses first person narrative to tell the story of her own life whilst providing reading recommendations along the way. On another level the word ‘dear’ is an adjective rather than a form of address. This book is a love letter to readers and to books themselves. The defining feature of Rentzenbrink’s life is reading, and this book is a celebration of all things literary.
I thought I really hated Dear Reader, and then I thought I loved it and now I can’t stop thinking about it. Initially the book felt a little unoriginal. I’m a big fan of books about books and loved both Howard’s End is on the Landing by Susan Hill and The Year of Reading Dangerously by Andy Miller. Initially I felt like Dear Reader was an attempt at something similar — it opens with a young girl who likes to read and a list of recommended books which didn’t scream of originality. It didn’t feel like a book of this length was required to suggest a child might enjoy Oliver!, Harry Potter or Enid Blyton.
I initially struggled to unearth what made this book unique. Rentzenbrink seemed like a relatively normal child who just liked reading. At times her total dedication to books felt a little self-absorbed and I became frustrated by her lack of ambition or awareness of the wider world. From the moment she secured her first job at Waterstones, however, I became absolutely transfixed. It is every reader’s dream to run or work in a bookshop and the descriptions of Rentzenbrink’s career in bookselling is fascinating and hilarious in equal measure. It lives up to every assumption or impression you may have about it.
In this sense the book is both a comfort and a reassurance. Reading can often feel like an indulgence, something that should be savoured as a hobby or method of relaxation, but Rentzenbrink’s book inadvertently provides a how-to guide for turning it into a career. She completely and utterly understands the need for books, and the escapism they can provide. Rentzenbrink’s life is entirely supported by books. Emotionally, she reveals how books have allowed her to cope through challenging times and fiscally, she is able to turn this passion into a job.
The chapters alternate between autobiography and lists of book recommendations relevant to that point in Rentzenbrink’s life. The recommendation chapters do read slightly like a best sellers list — there is very little description of the personal impact of the book on Rentzenbrink or particular parts that she liked. There is only a summary of each of the books which makes it feel a little impersonal and disconnected from the story.
I personally prefer it when the author weaves their recommendations into the narrative and combines with their own personal views. Ideally they then provide an index of these books, should you wish to look them up. The categorisations of the books such as ‘Books about orphans’ or ‘Books about booksellers’ was a novel organisational technique, but I’m not sure I would ever aim to work my way through such a specific reading list. I did occasionally find myself skimming these chapters to get back to the fascinating descriptions of life in Waterstones.
The real reason that I didn’t want to like this book was jealousy. I want to 1) live a life completely filled with books and 2) live a life spent writing about books so here I am, writing about this one. More than anything else this book has inspired me. Whether you turn to it for escapism, solidarity, recommendations or as in my case, an inadvertent self-help book, I could not recommend it more highly.
