It’s hard to say whether it’s more charming or disturbing that the most rebellious thing someone my age can do is read a book. And I do not mean a chemistry textbook. I mean the ones that force you to remember nuance, the relativity of perspective, and the gorgeous way words can illuminate the truth and still sound like poetry in that secret, fiendish way of all great works.

Above all, books tether us to all the people, struggles, spirit and imagination that came before us…

Books serve as the greatest lessons that insistent perseverance toward a better day, a better self, a better society, a better world will not go overlooked. We are merely links in a very very long chain that is still trying to wrest itself from all the kinks. It has always been about the vast, inventive ways to inflict suffering inward and outward, and those courageous enough have resisted this status quo and refused to accept necessity or inevitably as a valid cause.

Books are resilience. Books are flourishing. Books are about relishing novelty and the enormous array of ideas the human mind has gleaned. Books give us the confidence to savor the bittersweet mystery of the future ablaze with chance and choice. Books…are hot.