Booking Through Thursday is a meme created at the blog of the same name that poses a different question about reading each week.
This week’s questions is: Have you ever bought a book, started reading it and then realized you have already read it? If so, how far did you get? And-did you keep reading?
I’ve had this happen once to me, as far as I can remember. Sometime around the seventh grade, I checked a book out of the school library after reading the intriguing back cover promising mystery and romance. I was just entering my gothic romance phase (having discovered the wonder that is Jane Eyre in the fifth grade) and so thought this book would be a great fit. As it turns out, I loved it. I even remember what the cover looked like: a sort of deep mauve with a dark red rose across the front.
A few years later, during an early morning troll of the high school library (my regular stomping grounds, as I was not cool enough to hang out with actual people before the first bell rang), I picked up a few intersesting-looking books to keep me occupied for the week. A few days later, I was about twenty pages into my new book when I realized that I had, indeed, read it several years before, and had in fact been wondering as to its identity ever since. I guess names and titles weren’t high priority information to a seventh grader. As it turns out, thus was the beginning of my long love affair with Victoria Holt. The book? Bride of Pendorric.
A similar occurrence happened a few years ago, but it didn’t so much involve an unknowing reread as it did the search for a long-forgotten title. This one was another book that I’d nabbed from the library back in middle school, and once again, while I remembered loving the story, I had no clue as to the author or title. For years, I searched for this book, having very little to go on except for a vague recollection of the title sequence and book cover. Then, while antiques shopping a year or two ago, I came across a dusty collection of old scifi books, and a slim blue book jogged my memory. Apparently, the book that had kept me guessing for years was The Tombs of Atuan by Ursula Le Guin. Unfortunately, Le Guin’s writing didn’t enchant me as much the second time around, but I’m assuaged that at least the mystery of its identity has been solved.