I’m an enormous fan of spoilers.
This is something that shocks most everyone that I tell because, well, the very word, spoiler means spoiling something and that’s an entirely pejorative term. A term like spoiled simply can’t be used positively, so why would anyone want something like that? Isn’t the whole point of a story not knowing the ending and feeling shocked and/or jubilant when you get there? Why would you want to take away from some of the greatest moments in storytelling history by having those twists and turns spoiled for you? How could that possibly be something that anyone enjoys?
Now don’t get me wrong, there are moments in stories that would be better without spoilers. Something like The Sixth Sense is definitely one of those, and I will forever wonder what it was like to see something like that without knowing the twist. That wasn’t one I spoiled for myself by the way, this was one that I had happened across because it’s now such a famous twist that everyone knows it. If you are one of the lucky few who does not know what that twist is, go watch it right now and revel in the magnificence of one of the best twists in the history of story-making. Now you might be thinking, if I pay such homage to a twist like this, how could I possibly revel in the idea of spoilers at all? Well, the first answer is that very few twists are of the calibre of The Sixth Sense.
The second answer is that I love stories. In loving stories, I’m not so interested in where it ends, but how it gets there. Getting to the shocking moments of a story can be brilliant and reading or coming across something that makes your jaw drop is truly excellent. But sometimes, for me at the very least, getting to those moments, thinking about how it has led here, and where it will go from now is where I get the real joy. I love the journey more than anything else, and that’s why spoilers don’t upset me.
This is one of the fundamental reasons that I believe rereading has a purpose. I can understand why it may seem tedious; you’ve read all these words before, why bother reading them all again for the same ending? And it’s true that there are absolutely some books that I couldn’t read again for a whole host of reasons.
But for books that resonate with you, stories that stay with you, characters who have found their way into your heart, I think those are the ones that deserve a reread. Not only do you get to go on this journey again, but as I was saying above, knowing where it ends allows you to see how it was all going to get there in the first place, and you get to see the story unfold again with a brand new perspective. Even further, rereading can let you see the foreshadowing that may now seem obvious once you know where it’s all going to go.
Some of it may also come down to nostalgia. The reason I reread The Raven Cycle in the autumn for many years absolutely came down to nostalgia (though it was also to revel in the magnificence of Maggie Stiefvater’s writing, of course). As I had first read it in the autumn and been touched not only by the style but the story itself and the characters within, it called to me each autumn, and I answered. That story in particular is a good one for a reread because readings beyond the first show you things that you would never have seen if you only picked it up once; not all stories need to be the deepest and most complex thing ever written, but there is a true skill and forethought in writing that shows you more the second, third, and fourth time you read it. So not only can these stories take you on a journey that shows you more than the first time you encountered it, but experiencing that nostalgia again can be incredibly powerful too.
Opposite to the idea of nostalgia is the fact that we change as we get older and so, sometimes, rereading can allow us to see different versions of these books, offering new interpretations and new experiences from the exact same words you have read before. Perspective is so much of a story and each time you come to a book, you’re a different version of yourself. Perhaps this means rereading constantly leads you back to who you were when you first read the book, what interpretations you had, where you were in your life and comparing not only the story to what it means to you now, but also comparing yourself to that time, who you were then and who you are now. Certain characters you might have resented upon a first read, you might feel a true sympathy for, things you might have found frightening might have no effect on you, settings you might have had trouble picturing are now easy to see, and vice versa for each of these things.
Stories exist for us to interpret them, to make them our own in whatever way we might need them, and that can still be the case upon a reread; the story might offer you more when you’re older than when you were younger. I know a few people who reread the books they had read when they were children, things like The Lord of the Rings for example. The version of that story when read as a child would be vastly different to the one that’s read when as an adult, and for more reasons than one. Not only is the language likely easier to understand as an adult, but the messages, the characters, the story itself will differ as you age. There will be things you missed as a child that you’ll pick up on as an adult, but even more than that, as you yourself have grown, the story will have grown too. Nostalgia will certainly play a part here, but interpretations and the way they can change with time are a big, big part of why rereading can be so valuable.
The world itself changes too, it’s not just us that alters but our own setting is forever shifting. I remember, when I was reading 1984, I was constantly comparing the world we live in now to the one that George Orwell was creating. Whilst there were certainly plenty of times that made me quietly dread the world around me and the path that we’re on, it also made me think about how the world is different too. With the world still changing, maybe if I went back to 1984 in a few years, I’d compare myself and the world I’m in with where it all was back then (and I’d like to think it would make me hopeful but there’s a very real possibility that the sense of dread may be entirely heightened).
Not all examples of the world shifting around us have to be as harrowing at 1984, but it is a particularly good example of how the world around us can help shape our view of a book. This plays into the idea of us changing as well, but another example I have about the world affecting our views regards the story, Station Eleven. When I read it, I absolutely adored it, this fascinating post-pandemic story with these details that seemed to foreshadow what we experienced, and I compared it constantly to the reality that we lived. It had been recommended to me by a friend (though I’m not sure she would use the word ‘recommend’) who had found it so bleak and depressing because she had read it during the pandemic. What this very much shows is that when and where you read book has an impact on how you interpret it and how it makes you feel about it too. And this makes me wonder, if she had read it before the pandemic or if she were to reread it now, would she feel differently? Would I?
The world absolutely shifts our view of stories, and rereading in different circumstances could very well alter your view of something, though be warned, it might not always be for the better. There could be circumstances where a book you adored doesn’t live up to the expectations you once had upon a second read or something you found compelling and well-written feels subpar and convoluted for no purpose if you’ve perhaps come across things you found better afterwards. I’d like to say most rereads will leave you better than they were before, but sometimes stories touch us at a particular point in time and will never have that same effect afterwards. I don’t think that means you shouldn’t reread though because, ultimately, it’s a change in your perspective that will change what that book means for you, the words will always be the same, it will be you who is different.
What I’ve mostly mentioned is rereading books that once resonated with you but there is also a very strong argument for rereading books that didn’t resonate with you, perhaps even ones that you might have loathed. It’s true that these ones may be more difficult to do; why would you want to bring yourself torture and pain by making your way through a book that you hated going through the first time?
The answer to that is the same answers I’ve just given; changes in yourself, in your environment, the world, your perspective don’t just happen with things you enjoyed, they can happen with things you disliked too. I’ve absolutely put books down and said they simply aren’t for me and then come back to them a few months or years later and found them much easier to digest. Some books are meant to find you at a specific time and, therefore, it could very well be that a book you loathed once upon a time might simply be a book you read at the wrong time. This won’t be the case for every book, not every story is meant for every person, but it could be an excellent exercise in analysing your growth and change as a person; rereading a book you didn’t get along with the first time might show you just how different you’ve become from the person you once were and show you that stories can mould and shift if you give them the chance.
Ultimately, rereading is something I absolutely recommend. Maybe you have dozens of books on your shelves and you don’t have the time to go over something you’ve already been through, but I’d say there’s something so beautiful about coming back to a story that resonated with you at some point (or even books that you perhaps despised instead). Most of the time, it’s like meeting with an old friend; maybe they’ve changed, maybe you have, maybe the world itself is simply different, but why would you put it off when that old friend could offer you something new and brilliant that they couldn’t when you had first met?
Robyn x
R. A. Howard 