Some books slip away from our minds but linger in our hearts.
These stories have a unique way of bringing us back to the moments we experienced them: where we sat, the questions we pondered, and the versions of ourselves that turned those pages.
Maybe it’s time for a reread, or perhaps I don’t need to. Maybe it’s enough to let those memories float in and out of my consciousness.
I cannot remember the books I’ve read any more than the meals I have eaten; even so, they have made me.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Sometimes, it’s not the plot or the characters that leave an imprint on us; it’s the person we were when we turned those pages. I’ve had my share of books that have faded in detail but remain alive in feeling, echoing past moments of passion, curiosity, and even a tiny rebellion.
Here are three books that may have slipped through the cracks of my memory, yet still bring me right back to a version of myself I still carry.
LOOKING FOR ALASKA
by John Green
I first encountered Looking for Alaska during my college years, sinking into the rhythms of its narrative on a “borrowed” PDF I found somewhere deep in the digital realm. With a tight budget, I couldn’t splurge on books, but my longing to be part of stories that felt cool, grown-up, and a little rebellious was worth the hunt.
I would read it between classes, half-dreaming about a film adaptation one day. The words might have skimmed past my grasp here and there, but the plot and characters felt so alive to me. It made me want to run away, to chase something bigger than my little college world. Even now, the mere mention of the title catapults me right back to that cozy corner of my classroom, reading that bootleg e-book like it was a secret.
HEARSE OF A DIFFERENT COLOUR
by Tim Cockey
Another memorable chapter of my college years features Hearse of a Different Colour, lent to me by someone from my past. Though I no longer quite remember if I ever returned it or if it simply slipped through my fingers like so many other things. (Sorry, whoever you are!)
It wasn’t an easy read for me back then—so many complex words that I’d keep a dictionary by my side just to get through a page. But the experience was worth the effort. I remember laughing at its dark humor, feeling the thrill of solving its mystery, and secretly feeling a bit clever for sticking with it. I’d sit for hours, flipping pages slowly, underlining words I didn’t know yet, and savoring the peculiar world I had stepped into.
What’s interesting is that the book seems to have almost disappeared from modern conversations. There’s no sign it was ever banned, but it has very few quotes or recent reviews online. Likely because it was published in 2001 and never had the constant buzz newer mysteries enjoy. In a way, that scarcity makes my memory of it even more special. It’s like a hidden relic I once stumbled upon, carried with me, and now quietly revisit in thought.
ALEPH
by Paulo Coelho
By the time I discovered Aleph, I had moved beyond college into adulthood. I didn’t have a job yet, but I had hope, and I was just starting to fall in love with the man who is now my husband.
Love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning.
Paulo Coelho
Aleph
We’d spend weekends together at his farm, a quiet place devoid of modern disturbances—just fields and stories. I bought the cheapest title by Paulo Coelho—a small, mass-market paperback version of Aleph (since his bestsellers were too expensive for my pocket). I made sure to bring it with me for those serene afternoons. I can still picture myself nestled under a tree, surrounded by the scent of the earth, completely absorbed in the explorations of past lives and spiritual journeys.
I even shared a quote from the book on my old social media accounts, a tiny echo of that moment captured somewhere in cyberspace. Although that post may have vanished, the essence of that little book has stayed with me, tucked away in my heart like a cherished secret.
Books can transport us beyond mere narrative; they hold within them the essence of who we were: curious, searching for connection, and dreaming of bigger pursuits.
Perhaps I’ll revisit these stories soon and uncover new meanings, or maybe, just maybe, it’s enough to know that each faded line still carries a piece of me.
These titles live quietly on my bookshelf, alongside others that have shaped me in ways big and small. Feel free to wander through—it’s a slow, growing collection, much like the seasons of life we carry with us.
Thank you for allowing me to share these blurry yet beautiful memories with you. If you have a book that brings you back to an old piece of your life—even if you can’t quite remember what it’s about—I’d love to hear about it. Leave a message and let’s reminisce together.
