There are many ways a book can be inspirational. The other day, a friend and I briefly discussed A Jane Austen Education, in which the author writes about how reading Austen’s novels changed him as a person. That’s a wonderful thing, but that’s not what I’m writing about here. In this case, I mean something a little less practical and a little more magical.
My guess is that many of us who are serious readers have sometimes wanted to live inside a book. Certainly many a Harry Potter fan has wanted this; that’s why the Wizarding World of Harry Potter exists and why some colleges have quidditch teams. This desire to live inside a book is also why there are tons of literary cookbooks and online recipes, including The Little House Cookbook, The Unofficial Narnia Cookbook, and Voracious: A Hungry Reader Cooks Her Way through Great Books.
Like many readers, I love food scenes in books. I think picture books are an often overlooked source of inspiration. How can anyone resist the supper Margaret makes in The Maggie B.?
“Margaret and James ate the beautiful sea stew and dunked their muffins in the broth, which tasted of all the good things that had cooked in it. For dessert they had the peaches with cinnamon and honey, and glasses of warm goat’s milk.”
And Bread and Jam for Frances is full of food inspiration. Albert and Frances’ lunches sound particularly delicious.
“I have a cream cheese-cucumber-and-tomato sandwich on rye bread,” said Albert. “And a pickle to go with it. And a hard-boiled egg and a little cardboard shaker of salt to go with that. And a thermos bottle of milk. And a bunch of grapes and a tangerine. And a cup custard and a spoon to eat it with.”
“I have a thermos bottle with cream of tomato soup,” she said. “And a lobster-salad sandwich on thin slices of white bread. I have celery, carrot sticks, and black olives, and a little cardboard shaker of salt for the celery. And two plums and a tiny basket of cherries. And vanilla pudding with chocolate sprinkles and a spoon to eat it with.”
While I’ve made adjustments to their menus (I hate celery), I’ve allowed both of these meals to inspire my lunches.
But it’s not just food in books that can capture your imagination. When I was a child, I read and reread All-of-a-Kind Family, a story about five Jewish girls living in New York during the 1910s. While the food was enticing, there were many other things that I loved about the girls’ lives. One of my favorite chapters involved the sisters discovering wonderful books in their father’s junk shop. In another chapter, their mother made dusting an enviable chore by hiding buttons and the occasional penny. It’s hard to hide buttons from yourself before dusting (unless you’re very forgetful), but the ideas behind the stories — discovering treasures among used books, turning a chore into play — are easy enough to make a part of your life, if they aren’t already.
Ursula Nordstrom’s The Secret Language, a book which deserves far more young readers than it has, filled me with dreams of midnight feasts, hidden huts, and fun but impractical Halloween costumes when I was little. As an adult, I still appreciate the May basket the girls made — a tiny scene made of moss, flowers, a twig, and a mirror to make a pond. And if I knew a child at boarding school, I’d be tempted to imitate Victoria’s aunt and send a gift of tiny dolls a few weeks before Christmas break to help the time pass more quickly.
And then there are books that are just asking for a touch of magic. If Universal Studios can take visitors as close as they’ll ever get to Harry Potter’s world, then surely someone can do something similar for The Night Circus! Imagine a place filled with black and white tents, containing amazing acts and seemingly impossible things, like an ice garden. If nothing else, I’d love to attend (or attempt to create) a party based on Chandresh Christophe Lefèvre’s Midnight Dinners, with fabulous food, red and gold decor, and entertainment. The fact that I’m not much of a night person is a problem, but I’m sure I could stretch myself for such an occasion.
Nonfiction, too, can be inspirational. While Elizabeth Gilbert probably wanted me to pay more attention to her interior journey in Eat Pray Love, what I came away with was the desire to take a year to live in a few different places. Under the Tuscan Sun also sparks my desire to live abroad for a while, as well as make some of the food and visit some of the places in the book.
There are plenty of things in books we read that are unattainable. Perhaps they’re as impossible as Celia Bowen’s magical carousel. Perhaps they’re merely impractical, like taking a year off work to travel the world when money is tight. But if a book captures your imagination, ask yourself, “What about this can I bring into my life now? How can I make it a reality on some level?”
Perhaps you’ll be the person to create that Night Circus I want to visit.