So, You Want a Book Recommendation?
There are few questions in life that fill me with more anxiety than, “What’s a good book I should read?”
Not because I don’t have recommendations.
Oh no.
I have recommendations.
I have lists. I have Goodreads shelves. I have screenshots of screenshots of book lists. I have entire conversations saved solely because someone mentioned a book they liked three years ago.
The problem is that recommending a book is wildly personal.
It’s not like recommending a restaurant.
If I tell you where to get tacos and you don’t like them, that’s unfortunate but survivable.
If I tell you to read one of my favorite books and you hate it?
I will spend the next six months wondering if our friendship was built on a foundation of lies.
The question always seems simple enough.
“What’s a good book?”
Excuse me?
What kind of good book?
A book that will emotionally destroy you?
A book that will make you laugh so hard people stare at you in public?
A book with dragons?
Murder?
Historical romance?
A morally gray billionaire who needs therapy?
I need specifics.
I require a questionnaire.
A personality assessment.
Possibly a blood sample.
Because what if you don’t find the same things funny that I do?
What if the quirky side character I would gladly invite to Thanksgiving annoys you by Chapter Three?
What if the fictional man I have mentally married doesn’t do it for you?
What if you don’t spend three days after finishing the book staring into the distance wondering how the characters are doing?
Because that’s the goal, isn’t it?
The books that stay with us.
The ones where the characters feel less like people on a page and more like people we’ve actually known.
The ones that have us saying things like, “I wonder if they’re okay,” despite them being completely fictional.
Normal behavior.
Entirely normal.
Then there’s the fear of disappointment.
You lend someone a beloved book and suddenly you’re waiting for feedback like it’s your annual performance review.
Did they start it?
Did they like it?
Did they get to the good part?
Did they understand the significance of Chapter 17?
Should I text them?
No.
Absolutely not.
That would be weird.
I’ll just casually bring it up every time I see them for the next month.
And heaven help the person who says, “It was okay.”
Okay?
OKAY?
I entrusted you with one of my literary soulmates and your response is okay?
I need more information.
A PowerPoint presentation, perhaps.
But despite all the stress, I keep making lists.
I keep recommending books.
I keep shoving novels into the hands of friends and family with the enthusiasm of a slightly unhinged librarian.
Because every once in a while, magic happens.
Someone messages you at midnight because they couldn’t put the book down.
They tell you they laughed, cried, gasped, or immediately downloaded the sequel.
They fall in love with the characters.
They start recommending it to other people.
And suddenly it feels less like a recommendation and more like introducing two friends who were always meant to meet.
So yes, ask me for book recommendations.
Just know that behind every suggestion is an internal crisis, seventeen follow-up questions, and a tiny voice whispering:
“Please love this book. Please love this book. Please love this book.”
Because if you don’t…
I’ll probably still have another fifty recommendations waiting.
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