All great stories are memorable. But the impact of some books reaches beyond what’s contained between their covers and spills out into the real world, creating a story around the physical tome itself, giving it its own small but important chapter in the larger record of a person’s life.

We carry these books with us, under our arms, in our travel bags, or perhaps just on a special shelf in the libraries of our minds—but wherever they are, they are always with us. Perhaps this is why stories about books tend to resonate so well with readers—not just because we like to read, but because we appreciate just how much a book can affect a person’s (or even many people’s) lives.

Books Given as Gifts

Books make wonderful gifts. They entertain, but more importantly, the right book given at the right time can send a powerful message. It might even change someone’s life—maybe your own.

The period just before my heart surgery back in 2015 was one of the worst times of my life. I was sick—technically, I was dying—and miserable, and far from the place I’d called home for over 20 years. All of my closest friends were more than a hundred miles away, and while I’d made some new friends in my new hometown, I didn’t feel close enough to any of them yet to feel comfortable sharing such a heavy burden with them.

Then, for my birthday (which I spent on a couch bed in my parents’ living room suffering through the flu, on top of everything else), one of those new friends sent me a book via my brother. It was Here, There Be Dragons, the first book in The Chronicles of the Imaginarium Geographica series by James A. Owen. I’d never heard of it, or of Owen, but the cover alone told me the person who sent it already knew me better than I gave them credit for. It came with a fun little set of riddles with which to distract myself, and a handwritten note that warmed my poor, failing heart and reminded me of an important truth: no matter how I felt or what I told myself, the truth was, I was not facing what I was facing alone.

“It is the world, my boy,” he said. “All the World, in ink and blood, vellum and parchment, leather and hide. It is the World, and it is yours to save or lose.”

James A. Owens, Here, There Be Dragons

I still have the book, and the friend—who has since become so much more to me—and plan on keeping both close to my heart for many years to come.

Books That Find Us Unexpectedly

In college, the so-called “hills” next to the campus library were a favorite haunt of mine. I enjoyed spending free time between my classes (and sometimes, admittedly, during said classes) perched cross-legged on my own little grassy knoll beneath the trees with either a book or my laptop balanced on my knees. One of my favorite college memories came to pass one day when I was in my usual spot, hammering half-hearted haiku poetry (now long lost due to a disastrous user error) into a black Word document. I heard footsteps crunching through the grass and looked up, expecting a familiar face. Instead, a monk stood beside me, dressed in saffron robes, smiling kindly down at me. (At least, that’s how he looks in my memory; the journal entry describing this encounter seems to have somehow been lost since then.)

He asked if he could join me, and I nodded. Then he handed me a well-loved copy of The Bhagavad Gita, which was both oddly convenient (my plan had been to purchase it later that day for my World Religions class) and incredibly awkward, as I have never been religious and wasn’t sure how to react to his present for me or, for that matter, his presence. But I thanked him, and after a brief, pleasant philosophical chat I wish I could recall more clearly, he bid me farewell. My clearest memory of the encounter is sitting there watching him walk away, his bright orange robes standing out against the green of the field—and realizing that no one seemed to even look up as he passed them by.

I am still not a religious person. But Hinduism led me to Buddhism, which I found fascinating—and from there I began a journey which has helped me to better understand not just the things that other people believe and why they believe them, but also what I believe, and my own reasons why.

“You are what you believe in. You become that which you believe you can become.”

The Bhagavad Gita

I hope the monk I met on the hill is still out there somewhere, wandering about with books in his backpack and a smile on his face, sparking unexpected inner journeys with acts of kindness and clever conversation. If you meet him, be sure to tell him I said hello.

Books That Bind Us

Books can bring strangers together, for a moment or for a lifetime. But they can also bring existing friends and family closer together, strengthening bonds that already exist.

The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings have impacted my life in so many ways, it’s no wonder I never shut up about them. One of the first best friends I ever had—and someone I am lucky enough to still be in touch with today—fell in love with the books around the same time I did, and all of our best games of pretend took place in Middle-Earth. My brother and I used to play LotR-inspired video games together, and I still giggle at the memory of watching him throw sticks and stones at a glitched-out Ringwraith in The Fellowship of the Ring (2002). I watched every installment of Peter Jackson’s adaptations with one good friend or another, and the final Hobbit movie was, in fact, the first movie I ever went to see with my significant other back when we were still just friends.

But just as the story itself begins humbly—with a hole in the ground, and a hobbit—so, too, began my journey into Middle-Earth. I saw the Rankin/Bass cartoons when I was very young—too young, perhaps, to fully appreciate them, though trust me when I say I do now—but Tolkien’s world did not fully capture my attention until my (fantastic) fifth-grade teacher assigned The Hobbit as class reading material. I enjoyed it, and enjoyed reading it together with my friends, but more importantly, it led me to then continue the journey by reading The Lord of the Rings together with my mom. Every night before bed, we took turns reading aloud, taking great pleasure in acting out sound effects like the “doom, boom, doom” of the drums deep in Khazad-Dum or the whistle of the wind through the Misty Mountains.

Of all the books we’ve read together, The Lord of the Rings will always be my favorite—and of all the companions with whom I have journeyed there and back again, she was my best guide.

“Don’t adventures ever have an end? I suppose not. Someone else always has to carry on the story.”

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

Books That Inspire Us

Perhaps the most memorable and poignant reads of all are those books that make us feel understood—particularly at a time in our lives when we feel most misunderstood—and that inspire us to pay that feeling forward.

Neil Gaiman has been one of my favorite authors from the moment I was introduced to his work, but of all his books, I think The Ocean at the End of the Lane might have hit the hardest. There are truths in that book that feel as if he drew them directly from my own bone marrow, molded them and shaped them into something more eloquent, then printed them right there on the page for the world to read. I can even tell you exactly which lines finally made me put down the book and start sobbing because, for the first time, I felt like someone else in the world really did know exactly how I felt—and what I feared:

“How can you be happy in this world? You have a hole in your heart. You have a gateway inside you to lands beyond the world you know. They will call you, as you grow. There can never be a time when you forget them, when you are not, in your heart, questing after something you cannot have . . .”

Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane

It was at that moment, or so I remember it, that I realized, this is what I want to do with my writing. I wanted to make people feel the way Gaiman made me feel that night—a little scared, perhaps, but also a little less alone, and inspired to make sure others knew they weren’t alone, too. That same book also sparked a book tour, and I was lucky enough to attend one of his signings with a friend of mine. I was a downright mess—I never knew your knees could literally shake from nerves until that day—and when I finally got to his table, I babbled something about how his books saved me from some of the hardest days of my life, and mostly just tried not to freak out (and failed). His reaction was perfect. He took my hand, looked me in the eye, and thanked me. That night, thinking it all over and trying not to be too hard on myself, I marveled at his composure and kindness, and again I thought, that’s what I want to do as an author. I wanted to make sure I treated my fans—if I was ever lucky enough to have any—as well as he treated me and everyone else in that room.

In many ways, The Ocean at the End of the Lane played a significant role in making me the writer and the person I am today. 

We All Have Stories About Books

If you read at all, you’ve read at least one book that’s made a lasting impression on you, whether good or bad. And the truth is, big or small, everything we read—everything we experience—changes us in some way, for better or for worse. Usually, for the better—even if we can’t see it right away.

I don’t expect this blog post to be the kind of thing you’ll tell stories about to your grandchildren (or a friend’s grandchildren) someday. But what I do hope is that it has reminded you of a few of the stories that did matter, the ones that you’ll carry with you just as I will gladly carry these with me.

These stories, after all, aren’t just things that happen to you. They’re a part of you now. Enjoy them. Be thankful for them. And keep sharing them and telling them to anyone that will listen.

For more stories inspired by books (and other magical things), check out my interactive fiction game, The Harbinger’s Head, or download the free demo of my upcoming visual novel, The Dragon’s Last Flight today!