Let me tell you about this experience I had over the holiday season last year.
As you might expect, the little independent bookstore where I work was seeing an uptick in traffic—and, as you might expect, stress levels were higher than normal. For everyone involved.
At one point near the end of the day, maybe about a week before I was leaving to spend the holidays with my family, I found myself trying to help a woman who was looking for something “like a classic,” but not necessarily a classic, for a younger reader. My thoughts immediately flew to the Narnia series by C.S. Lewis, which my mother read to me when I was a child, and which had ultimately played a huge part in the first few chapters of my life.
This person’s response? “Oh, I’m trying to avoid fantasy books. I want a real story.”
After suppressing my desire to strangle and maim and froth at the mouth, I attempted to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Oh,” I said. “I see. You’re looking for realistic fiction.”
“Yes,” she said. “I just want a good, solid story, you know what I mean?” She kept repeating those words: a good, solid story.
And, no. I didn’t know what she meant.
Long story short, and skipping over the parts that made me even more frustrated with the situation and the season and the droves of last-minute shoppers, etc. etc., I was unable to help this person find what she was looking for. And I felt a little bad for not handling the situation as well as I possibly could have—but I don’t feel bad for bristling at her attitude.
Now, instead of telling you outright, possibly for the millionth time, why I think fantasy stories are just as important as realistic fiction, I will instead flash forward to a couple days later.
I was working a shift with one of my managers, and the conversation turned to our old, definitely-on-its-way-out computer system, and I pointed out how there was talk of replacing it several months before, and further expressed my curiosity as to why it had yet to occur.
For the sake of this person’s privacy, I will remain vague: life happened. Several things had taken place that year involving her family which meant that other things had to be put on hold. And that plans were frequently going astray. And that a new computer just simply had to wait a little longer.
This got us opening up to each other a little about hardship, and having to keep on keeping on when things get tough. Which got her telling me about this wonderful book she read recently: it was The Truth Pixie, by Matt Haig. She got so excited (as this particular person, whom I adore for it, tends to do), she even pulled the book from the shelf and began flipping through it to show me the illustrations and the characters. She said it was about this little pixie girl who could only tell the truth, and it often got her ostracized from her community for stating unpleasant, straightforward things. But, of course, there was so much more to it than that.
As she explained more about the story, I could see her eyes beginning to tear up, just a little. “It just goes to show,” she told me, “that hardship is tough to handle sometimes, but it’s accepting the truth of the situation that helps us move forward.”
Okay, I’m summarizing a bit. But that is more or less the conclusion she drew from reading this book.
This fantasy book.
This fantasy book that brought her to tears because she picked it up at a time when she needed it most, and she didn’t even realize it.
This fantasy book that she was so excited about, she just had to share it with the people around her.
Don’t tell me what a “solid” story is. I already know. I have known since I first sat on my mother’s lap while she read the Narnia books to me.
Night Owls, what stories have meant the most to you? What stories have been there at a time you needed them, whether you knew it in the moment or not? What stories have connected you with a fellow human being?
