We all need a safe fictional word to escape to during these difficult times
With the outbreak of Covid-19, books, while not essential compared to food and medication, have become a lifeline. As supplies of books run low in shops, readers have ordered in piles to be read – books that they always meant to read, the latest titles, and books for comfort. The importance of books for wellbeing can’t be underestimated.
What is it about books that makes them an escape during difficult times?
What is it we search for in fiction during a time of crisis?
The idea of escaping from a challenging world into a fictional world isn’t new. AA Milne famously wrote his Winnie the Pooh stories after service in WW1, at a time when he was suffering from PTSD. Many people believe that, in the Hundred Acre Wood, Milne recreated a world of childhood play to remind adults of the importance of innocence and open-minded play. Whatever the truth, they are certainly among few books in the world where threat, when it comes, is from the weather and imaginary creatures who may or may not exist. It allows the reader security. Heffalumps can be imaginary. Storms blow over. In the Hundred Acre Wood, there are no enemies.
This makes Pooh’s adventures ideal for escapism. Yet it is not Pooh who I hear about most in the book network. It is Potter.
Hogwarts is always home
For every adult I meet who loves Harry Potter for the storyline, I meet three who tell me, with total sincerity, that Hogwarts is home. It is the place they go to when the real world gets too much. That the battle to save the world from untold evil is important and all that, but chocolate frog cards are more important. And who scores what in the Gryffindor vs Slytherin Quidditch match. And the difference between Greenhouse Two and Greenhouse Three.
The storyline that spans the Harry Potter series could reasonably be compared to real-world politics, yet the world building – the sheer, wonderful detail that JK Rowling wove into her narrative – captured everything that is important to children. Sports results. Card collections. School timetables. And wondrous, fantastical food.
Added to this, there are micro-settings and communites that offer the main characters security and love even in the darkest times. Not to mention that there are seven books. By the time you’ve spanned them all, you’re practically ready to return to the beginning.
A story about a boy hunted relentlessly by a far-right dictator and his army hardly seems like cosy bedtime reading. Yet the worldbuilding and the fictional communities – communities who are also facing upheaval – call us back time and time again.
Do we search for shelter or do we turn to fiction for something deeper?
My first suggestion for which books a person should read during a time of crisis is the ones they love most. But it isn’t always that simple and I know that from lived experience.
Last year, my mother died very suddenly. I was 29. Some of my favourite books and films offered sanctuary, while others were firmly on hold. Character deaths, strong bonds between parents and children, and hospital settings became triggers. Stories with themes about death were 50/50. I needed some of these more than anything in the world, because they told me that the strangest parts of grief and loss were universal. Others were too close for comfort or too focused on moving on when what I needed was to grieve. To feel and acknowledge a loss I hadn’t been prepared for.
Identifying in some way with the text felt important. From emotional recognition in them to lesser but equally valid feelings that I was that – the Eeyore who was certain everything was doomed or the Gryffindor who couldn’t let go of the total sense of injustice. Perhaps because my sense of self was shattered without Mum to verify it, I sought myself within story.
While old favourites might be the books to offer comfort, they might equally contain triggers. Or simply have the wrong tone. One person who is upset will shy away from books with dark subjects, while others will be frustrated with books that chide them into feeling happy. What the worldwide love of Harry Potter teaches us is that a dark subject isn’t a no-go during a crisis. What matters is that, within that story, there has to be a setting where the reader feels safe. A community ready to face the darkness together.
Is there something alike in all comfort reads?
I have spoken several times about comfort. We might call that the elusive ‘C’ factor. The thing that draws readers to books during difficult times.
It seems that comfort doesn’t equate to happy stories. Books can offer us the acknowledgment that we’re struggling to find in real life. Maybe because authors balance difficult themes with warmth and security, books offer us a space to explore our feelings from a safe distance.
Equally important are the details. Strong world and character-building allow the reader to pick up a story not for its overarching narrative but for the joy in the ride.
While food nourishes and keeps us alive, books help their readers to prepare for the more difficult things in life. They also offer shelter. An escape to a different place, if only inside our heads.
