Have you ever read a book that made you feel things you could never explain? What I mean is, have you ever noticed, while reading a book, that you were thinking and feeling emotions that could never really be put into words? It is as if the words in the book have somehow became something better than words.

When you go to an English class or a book club and people want to talk about two things: plot and theme. It is easy to talk about the plot of a book because everyone can see that the man stole the apple or the girl ran away with the pony. There can be no arguing about that. The plot is right there in front of you.

But then you have theme. What did it mean when the man stole the apple? Why did the girl run away with the pony? Of course, we intellectuals and academics are not to be undone, so we come up with some sort of philosophical trash we know has nothing to do with the book. Somewhere deep inside we know the theme of the book had nothing to do with friendship or brotherly love, but it would be unreasonable to try to explain how we felt about the book. English classes have long since forgotten feelings.

Maybe in high school it was okay to talk about how you felt about a book, but college is about thinking. You cannot feel anything from reading a textbook, so it must be true that you also cannot feel anything from reading any book at all. Of course, the textbook is the zenith of the modern intellect. Everything must be cut and dry. There is no room for passion in the modern university. We do not quibble with irrelevant, uneducated, romanticism. We are enlightened.

So what is one who likes the books that make him feel instead of think supposed to do? The only obvious choice is to read books your professors have not assigned you, books that your friends are not reading. I am in the midst of reading one such book, and though I could tell you numerous things the author discusses, I would only succeed in boring you with an ugly synopsis of a beautiful work of literature.

The ultimate problem is, though I could explain the plot, I could not explain the theme, for a theme cannot be explained. We do not have words for the feelings that great compositions of words embed. Indeed, the moment I tried to explain the theme of this great book I would painfully end the life that springs from it. The result would be that both you and I would find it utterly dull and useless. It would become a textbook. The only thing that separates a real book from a textbook is that real books are mysteriously alive.

Not only are real books alive, but they also possess a secret and magical existence that is unbeknownst to us. When you close the cover of a real book, things inside of it wake up and change while you are away. Not unlike the liveliest characters of the “Toy Story” movies, the characters in real books do not stop living when you stop reading. If anything, it may be the opposite. It may be more accurate to say that your reading inhibits the life of the characters. This is why the greatest pleasure comes from reading and re-reading a favorite book. The characters are changing, but you will only see how if you regularly interrupt their world.

The book I am currently reading reminded me of my love for fairy tales. It is not a fairy tale itself, but it does speak of them extensively. The title Orthodoxy might cause G.K. Chesterton’s book to strike fear in the faint of mind, but rest assured that it is a great read. Though it will make you think, it will primarily make you feel, and feeling is never a bad or difficult thing. Feeling may not always be enjoyable, but it is always effortless.

By the way, I realize that the word “feeling” is a terrible word to describe the kind of sense I am trying to discuss. Unfortunately, some college-level English classes do talk about “feelings,” but they do so in the wrong way. They ask, “How did this make you feel?” At which point we give the kind of answers I described as “philosophical trash” above. The kind of sense I unfortunately do not know how to refer to except by the word “feeling” is not emotion or romanticism. I am not attempting to herald some sort of emotional reader-response theory. I do not expect college professors to be able to adequately discuss anything beyond the intellectual matters of a text.

College is an institution designed around intellectual pursuit. To ask for college to be anything different would be to ask for something other than college. The kind of intimacy with a book I am speaking of can truly only be experienced on a personal level. That is why I suggest that if you want to be reminded of real books, real stories, and real literature, and if you want to forget about your dreaded textbooks if only for a moment, you should delve into Chesterton’s Orthodoxy. Then, you should follow his advice and go read a fairy tale. While it is unlikely that you will ever meet someone who really understands a book exactly the way you do, every so often, I hope, you will come across someone else who “gets it”. The two of you may not be able to fully express what each of you “gets”, but at least you will know that you are not the only one who finds something unexplainable in good books.

Matt Brumit is a junior Humanities major. He can be reached for comment at [email protected].