My first read of 2015 was The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón: a lyrical and harmonious serenade to literature itself. Concealed amongst the thrill and the enchantment, stowed away between the ink-blotted pages of long-forgotten books, and hidden within the shady alleys of Barcelona, lay a simple truth. A truth lurking on the very first page: this is a book which will remind you why you love reading.
And it starts with a question: if you placed a book in front of a mirror, what would it reflect?
Now, this is something I think about far too often – but it's also a fascinating study. I mean, what do the words really reflect? I guess it's the reader's turn to delve deeper, and deeper still.
Do you ever think of books in a somewhat similar way?