Ray Bradbury's The Playground Made Me Rethink How I Parent.

I just finished listening to Ray Bradbury's The Playground on Audible, and I've been thinking about how I parent my children.

Bradbury is known for writing stories that linger long after they end. If you've read his most famous book, Fahrenheit 451, I know you'd agree. He's talented at placing ordinary people in ordinary settings while quietly exposing something unsettling about human behaviour. 

The Playground did exactly that.

I was going through my Audible library and stumbled across this one. It was only 45 minutes, and I thought it would be a good way to kick-start my reading in 2026 with something short.

In a nutshell, Ray Bradbury's The Playground is about a widower, Charles Underhill, haunted by his childhood bullying and desperately trying to shield his 3-year-old son, Jim, from the same experience at a local playground.

At its core, this isn't really a story about children. It's a story about fear, grief, and the way love can slowly turn into control when it's driven by anxiety.

The Audiobook Review

I enjoyed listening to this. Finished it in one day during my drive to and from work. Not sure when the audiobook was recorded, but the narration reminded me of those classic storytelling style they used to do for radio. 

What starts as a story of a grieving, overprotective father suddenly becomes a supernatural event where the Underhills make a decision that impacts their lives forever.

It's only a 45-minute listen, and while I wouldn't say it was absolutely enjoyable, it's short enough to get through. For me, it made me reflect on how I parent my kids.

If you have 45 minutes to spare, I'd recommend listening to it. Ray Bradbury's work is worth the time.

Are We Overcompensating As Parents?

Listening to this made me reflect on how differently many of us parent today compared to how we were raised.

Many of us grew up with way less supervision. Our parents didn't monitor us constantly or track our every move. We made mistakes, scraped our knees, got into trouble, and figured things out on our own.

That freedom didn't make us reckless. If anything, I think it made us resilient.

Today, many of us parent by overcompensating. We know more. We see more. We're constantly exposed to stories of what can go wrong. So we buffer, protect, and manage—sometimes down to the smallest detail.

And The Playground made me pause and ask an uncomfortable question:

Are we protecting our children, or are we trying to protect ourselves from our own fears?

What The Playground Made Me Rethink

Bradbury doesn't argue for neglect or reckless parenting. What he does, at least for me, is hold up a mirror, which can be unsettling.

When fear becomes the foundation of parenting, even love can become suffocating. Children don't build resilience in perfectly controlled environments. They built it through:

• Small risks
• Mistakes
• Discomfort
• Learning where their own limits are

The playground, literal or metaphorical, is where that happens.

This story made me rethink how I parent my kids, not with guilt, but with awareness.

Maybe strength isn't built by removing danger entirely. Maybe it's built by allowing space for independence, even when letting go feels terrifying.

And maybe the hardest part of parenting isn't keeping our children safe from the world, but making sure our own fears don't quietly shrink theirs.

Book Review: Alchemised by SenLinYu

I've never read the Harry Potter fan fiction Manacled, which Alchemised is based on. 

So I went into Alchemised with no prior background of the book that was popular amongst Dramione fans. I picked this book up mostly because of the hype I kept seeing on BookTok and, well, simply because I'm a Harry Potter fan. 

I was also curious after reading about the author, SenLinYu. Manacled was so popular that she received offers to publish Manacled as a book, which was then reproduced as Alchemised to avoid copyright issues with the Harry Potter franchise, and even received a movie deal shortly after. 

When a book gets offers left, right, and centre like that, you start thinking... okay, this must be good, right? 

What is Alchemised About?

Helena Morino - Official artwork from Avendell

Alchemised is a dark fantasy romance set during a brutal war against the Undying. 

The central character is Helena Morino, a healer who tends to wounded Resistance soldiers. This book carries heavy themes around war, power, blind religious loyalty, female status in society and how narratives can be manipulated to serve those in control. 

But beneath all that? 

It's also a deeply intense love story between a spy and his handler. Two lonely people who fell in love during the war. 

Spoiler Free Review. 

This was a painful read, and I don't mean emotionally. 

At 1,040 pages, this book is heavy. Carrying it around actually threw my shoulder out, so I eventually caved and bought a copy on my Kobo. 

So what's inside this 1,040-page brick? 

Alchemised is broken into three parts. 

Part 1 was confusing. So confusing, in fact, that I stopped reading and left the book collecting dust for a good two months before picking it up again. 

The world-building was impressive, but the magic system and terminology tripped me up constantly. Animancy, vivimancy, necromancy, all the "-mancies" started to blur together. I found myself constantly looking things up repeatedly just to keep track. 

If you're planning to read this, do yourself a favour and print out a terminology list for reference. Trust me, it'll help. 

I eventually picked it back up during the long year-end holidays, and I'm glad I did. Trudging through Part 1 was worth it because Part 2 is where the book truly shines. 

I was so high-strung through Part 2 and the early sections of Part 3 because both Kaine and Helena faced so many challenges that when the book finally ended, it felt... flat. 

And that's where my mixed feelings come in. 

What lingered days after I finished was a feeling of unease. 

The story doesn't offer a clean finish. It doesn't reward sacrifice with recognition, and it doesn't provide a neat closure. That made it deeply unsatisfying yet strangely compelling. 

Long after I finished the book, I found myself scrolling through TikTok endlessly, talking to my book club members who had read it, trying to understand why the story stayed with me. 

Alchemised isn't a comfort read. It's a book that asks you to sit with moral ambiguity rather than resolving it neatly. 

And honestly, I'm still sitting with it. 

Some books end, and you go, "Okay, that was good/bad," rate it a few stars, and move on. 

And then there are books that live rent-free in your head long after you've finished reading them. 

This was definitely one of those books. 

So, would I recommend you pick up this book? 

Yes. It's definitely a one-of-a-kind reading experience. 

That said, please pay attention to the trigger warnings before you decide to jump into reading this book. This is not a light or casual read; it's the complete opposite. 

There were moments while reading Alchemised when I was completely drawn in.

But is it a five-star read? 

I can't say. I'll need to get back to you. I'm still processing. 

The part I really enjoyed in the book was Part 2. Part 1, as I mentioned, was confusing, and the ending, while unsatisfying, did make me think deeper about the themes. 

And with that, I'll stop here because the rest of my thoughts live firmly in spoiler territory. What follows are my personal notes and reflections, written mostly so I don't forget how this book made me feel. 

So, if you want to avoid spoilers, stop here. 

What Stuck with Me (Spoilers Ahead)

⚠️ Fair warning - spoilers below ⚠️

Sigh. Where do I even begin? There's a lot to unload here, and this might be a long post. 

1. Characters from the book

There are so many unlikeable characters in this book. 

Marrough is not the only villain. Ilva Holdfast, Jan Crowther, and especially Falcon Mathias, members of the Resistance council, were the ones I found deeply unsettling. 

What disturbed me most about the council wasn't that they were obvious villains. They were unlikeable not because they were evil, but because they were protected by blind belief, rank, and a narrative that conveniently suited them. 

Kaine Ferron - Official artwork by Avendell

On the flip side, Kaine Ferron is easily my favourite character in the book. Not because he's flawless or romantic, but because he constantly pays the price quietly. He keeps his promises. He carries loyalty, restraint, and emotional cost without recognition, and he feels like someone trying to remain decent caught inside a system that punishes decency. 

Also, his dry wit and humour genuinely made me laugh, which made me love his character more. 

Helena Morino, on the other hand, disappoints me at times. She's intelligent, capable, and deeply burdened by responsibility and deep loyalty to the Resistance. My frustration comes from the fact that she always prioritises the Resistance. Her actions mostly reflect that without fully considering the cost to Kaine. 

It often felt like Kaine consistently gave, while Helena gambled, and he absorbed the fallout. That imbalance felt unfair, and yet, I still loved them together. 

2. The Themes

There are so many heavy themes woven into Alchemised, from gender inequality and the ethics of power to how narratives can be controlled to serve a political purpose. 

But these were the ones that stayed with me the most:

One line that had me literally shaking my head in agreement was: "There's nothing to rival war to money."

Simply put, war isn't just ideology or belief. It's an economic engine. I think that single line frames the entire story well; it shows how war reduces human life to insignificance.

Another moment that lingered with me was the theme of blind faith. 

In the story, Helena is reprimanded for suggesting necromancy to revive fallen Resistance soldiers as a strategy to win the war. The idea is met with immediate backlash by the Council. It's labelled heretical and deeply immoral by the Resistance, whose ideology is built around preserving life and preventing necromantic corruption. 

In one scene, shortly after the incident, the Resistance is celebrating a win, and in one conversation, the belief is that the win came because they held firm to their faith, i.e. not agreeing with Helena on using necromancy, which shows their commitment to Sol. 

"They thought the war was being won because her proposal for necromancy had been so sharply reprimanded that the resistance passed some final spiritual test, and all the success of the last year was a reward for it."

This blind belief is dressed up as moral certainty. The Resistance convinces itself it's winning because it held firm in its belief. In their minds, Sol is now rewarding them for their righteousness. 

They were so deep in their faith, so convinced that belief alone can save them, that it ultimately led to the Resistance's downfall.

Then, towards the end of the book, after Kaine and Helena have escaped safely, they read reports that neighbouring countries are finally going to intervene and help free Paladia from Marrough's clutches, and this line hits hard: 

"How different it could have been if the international community had decided to put even a negligible amount of effort into caring sooner." 

Tell me that doesn't echo real life. 

This is where the book stopped feeling like fantasy and started feeling current. Alchemised doesn't just critique war; it critiques apathy. 

Alchemised also explores memory and truth. The novel comes across as a reflection on history itself: how records can be falsified, burned, or rewritten, and how those who shape the events are remembered as something they never were. 

Kaine will be remembered as a mass murderer, a figure of pure evil. Helena will not even be recorded, but behind that are two legends who sacrificed everything and fought in their own way to end the war. 

The world will never know the truth, and the idea that memory and history are illusions is what makes it devastating. 

This is what I think is special about the book: the author includes heavy themes but lets you think for yourself. 

I think this is why the book stayed with me long after I was done: I needed to process it all to understand where I stand on each theme. 

3. The Plot Twists

There are two plot twists in this book that really got me. 

Look, it's no secret that Kaine Ferron and Helena Morino are lovers. The relationship revealed between Kaine and Helena in Part 2 wasn't the twist; the timing was. 

What impressed me was how the author revealed why Kaine behaves the way he does in Part 1 only after showing us their history in Part 2. Things Kaine says early on in Part 1, his restraint, his exhaustion, his quiet loyalty, feel emotionally loaded even before we understand the full context. 

When their past is revealed later, those earlier moments click into place. It's not a surprise about the relationship itself, but a revelation about its depth and duration. The story doesn't change what happened; it changes how you understand what you already read. 

Hats off to SenLinYu for this, because she really managed to craft the storyline and merge it well as we move through the book. One day, I'd love to read this again just to see what I missed the first time around. 

The other plot twist which broke me was when Helena found out that Marrough had taken control of Luc's body, thus explaining why Luc was acting so strangely. By the time Helena realises what's happening, it is too late, and he ultimately meets his death. 

Luc's death completely shifted the emotional weight of the book for me. Especially the reveal that he was already lost before Helena realised it. 

This was the only part of the book that made me cry. 

Luc's death - Official artwork by Avendell

4. The Love Story

Kaine and Helena - Official artwork by Avendell

Helena and Kaine's relationship feels less like a traditional love story and more like trauma bonding, forged under constant danger, secrecy, power imbalance, and survival.

Their relationship is captured perfectly in this line: 

"They were the inverse and counter to each other. A healer and a killer, circling slowly, the push and pull inexorable."

 

 Kaine's love is quiet, protective, and possessive. 

"You're mine. I'll always come for you." 

"I'm going to take care of you. I swear, Helena. I'm always going to take care of you."

"If you die, Helena... I'm done. I won't continue this. I'm tired."

This isn't soft romance. 

Their love was built on loneliness and shared purpose during wartime. They didn't fall in love despite the war; they fell in love because of it.

Both were deeply isolated long before they were romantically involved: Kaine by duty and conditioning. Helena by responsibility and moral burden. Working toward the same goal forced proximity, trust, and dependence in a world where genuine connection was rare. 

War compressed time and intensified emotion, turning shared agenda into intimacy. Their love becomes both refuge and risk, not ideal or pure, but deeply human. 

And maybe that's why it felt so powerful, and so fragile at the same time. 

5. The Ending

The problem I have with the book's ending is that it felt flat. 

The reason? 

There was so much intensity in Parts 2 and 3 leading up to the end that, when Helena and Kaine finally managed to make their escape, I was anxious. I kept thinking they were going to get caught, or recognised, or that Marrough would somehow find out and go after them. 

Then, when they finally made their escape to the island and seemed to live a happy life, it was a good ending, but the anticipation made it fall flat. 

I was, however, left with an ending where I really felt sorry for their daughter Enid, who eventually returns to Paladin to pursue her studies, only to end up reading a distorted narrative of her father, the merciless killer, and the mother who had sacrificed everything but wasn't given any recognition. 

That ending sat with me because I realised that their greatest sacrifice in the war was anonymity. 

While the ending didn't break me, it still stayed with me, and maybe, that was the point. 

6. Final Thoughts

Alchemised might look like a fantasy novel on the surface, but at its core, it's a war story. One that strips away any illusion of glory or simple morality. 

What makes it a powerful story is its refusal to divide its world into good and evil. There are no heroes in war, only people driven by their philosophies, fears, and desperate choices. 

In war, nobody truly wins. 

And at the centre of it all is a love that's not romantic in the traditional sense. It's tragic, painful and achingly human. 

Quotes I'm Keeping

• "I think the hospital's worse than the battlefield ... in the hospital, every battle looks like losing."
• "In combat, there's no difference between an angry person and a stupid one."
• "Do as I say, not as I do."
• "I thought we could suffer enough to earn each other."
• "Women were always defined by the lowliest thing they could be called."
• "Love isn't as pretty or pure as people would like to think. There's darkness in it sometimes. Kaine and I go hand in hand. I made him who he is. I knew what that array meant when I saved him. If he's a monster, then I'm his creator."
• "All those years. All the people she'd healed, her resonance knitting them back together so they could live to fight another day, and for what? So they could be tortured to death, or enslaved or - worst?"

From Screen to Page: The TV & Movies That Made Me Read The Books.

Source: Unsplash

We always talk about books being turned into movies or TV shows.

But what about the other way around?

When a screen version is so good that you suddenly find yourself at the bookstore getting the same book with the movie or screen tie-in version on the cover.

This has happened to me. More than once.

The Expanse – Space Opera at Its Best

I started The Expanse thinking, “Cool, space adventure.”
What I got instead?

• Political drama so tense it could give Succession a run for its money.
• Characters I still think about.
• And Christian Avasarala — the queen of sharp comebacks and sharper outfits. I absolutely love her and her foul mouth. 

The TV series was already brilliant, but the books?
Oh, the books. More world-building. More scheming. More Avasarala swearing like only she can.

It’s one of the rare shows that stayed close to its source material and still made me want more. I’m in no rush to finish either. I’m currently on Book 6 (Babylon’s Ashes), taking my time to savour every scene.

The After Series – My Guilty Pleasure

On the opposite end of the galaxy, we have the After series.
It’s corny. It’s predictable. I knew the plot after five minutes.
And yet? I couldn’t stop watching.

Hero Fiennes Tiffin and Josephine Langford played the leads so well it should be illegal. It’s the classic trope: bad boy falls for good girl, drama happens, they find their way back to each other.

Sometimes you just need your romance tropes served with extra cheese.

The Flash – From The CW to the Comics

Then there’s The Flash. I didn’t expect the CW version to send me to the comic book aisle — but it did.

I’ve read a couple of the comics (though I’ve fallen behind), but in my mind, Grant Gustin will always be my Flash. I loved the cast, the humour, and the storylines (well, most seasons anyway).

Now, I can’t read Barry Allen on the page without picturing Gustin in that suit.

The Summer I Turned Pretty – My Current Teen Obsession

Right now, I am a 50-year-old teenager.

I’m watching The Summer I Turned Pretty, rooting for Team Conrad like it’s a matter of national security, and reading the first book at the same time.

It’s all first-love nostalgia, bittersweet moments, and perfect summer vibes. Also, the TSITP Penguin book cover? Gorgeous.

PS: I asked my Facebook book club this same question, and wow — people delivered.
Some titles I now want to check out: Bleak House, The Beach, The Caves of Steel, and The White Robot.

Sometimes adaptations disappoint.
Sometimes they make you ask, “Why did they even bother?”

But sometimes — just sometimes — they’re so good, you have to experience the story all over again.
In print.
And sometimes… even in an audiobook version too.

So… what about you?
What book did you pick up because the screen version hooked you first?

A Walk To Remember Doesn't Need A Remake.

I just stumbled across a headline that made me stop mid-scroll:

A Walk to Remember is getting a remake.

Excuse me, what?

This movie came out in 2002. That’s just 23 years ago—not exactly ancient history. And yet, here we are, in 2025, with news confirming they’re bringing it back.

I even read somewhere that they were considering Olivia Rodrigo for the lead.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Olivia Rodrigo, but let me be clear:

A Walk to Remember does not need a remake.

I Had to Do a Rewatch

I was curious if maybe, just maybe, the movie really did need a refresh. 

So I decided to rewatch it.

I figured this would also be the perfect time to “introduce” my daughter to A Walk to Remember. She fell asleep halfway through. And suddenly there I was—sobbing alone on the couch while she snored like a baby.

Proof it still hits just as hard as it did 20+ years ago.

Honestly? 

It might hit even harder now, because I understand the weight of it more as an adult.

The Original Was Perfect

Mandy Moore and Shane West weren’t just well-cast. 

They were Jamie and Landon.

Mandy brought genuine sweetness and quiet strength to Jamie, while Shane nailed that mix of teenage rebellion and vulnerability that made Landon’s transformation believable. Also—anyone else love his smile in this? He had the bad boy strut and smirk down to an art.

The soundtrack? Loved it.
The dialogue? Corny, but in exactly the right way.
The story? Still rips your heart out in the best way.

It came out in that sweet spot of early-2000s teen romance before social media, before dating apps, before every character had a phone glued to their hand. It had space to breathe, and that’s part of what made it magic.

You can’t just throw two attractive Gen-Z actors together and hope it works the same way.

Has Hollywood Run Out of Ideas?

When did Hollywood decide the answer to everything was a reboot?

They tried Cruel Intentions— hard no from me.
They rebooted Footloose— I didn’t even bother.
At this rate, what’s next? Notting Hill starring TikTok influencers?

Maybe remakes are “safe” because they come with a built-in audience. 

But A Walk to Remember was one of those rare, perfect moments where every piece just fit.

Sure, the themes of love, loss, and personal growth are timeless. 

But the execution of the original is so tied to its time and place that updating it risks stripping away what made it special.

If You Absolutely Must Remake Something...

Then remake something that had potential but didn’t quite stick the landing.

Like Twilight.

Yes, I enjoyed the books. Yes, I watched all the movies. But let’s be honest: the execution was… uneven. Imagine it with sharper writing, better casting, and a director who really understood the tone.

Why A Walk to Remember is Unforgettable.

I can understand why Hollywood is looking to remake this movie. 

Part of what makes A Walk to Remember unforgettable is its sincerity. It’s not trying to be edgy or self-aware — it’s a simple, heartfelt love story about two people who change each other in the best way.

It’s a story that trusts quiet moments. It lets you feel the awkwardness, the hope, and the heartbreak without rushing to the next big twist. That’s rare now.

It reminds you of a time when romance on screen could be earnest without apology and maybe that’s why it’s still lodged in so many of our hearts two decades later.

The Bottom Line

Some movies deserve to be left alone.
A Walk to Remember is one of them.

It wasn't perfect. The storyline could have flowed better. But it does not need a remake. 

It exists perfectly in its own time: beautiful, heartbreaking, and unforgettable. It doesn’t need updating, rebooting, or reimagining.

Maybe there should be a rule:
Only remake movies if they’re at least 50 years old and the entire original cast is no longer with us. (Too dark? Maybe. But effective.)

Until then, Hollywood, please stop fixing things that aren’t broken.
There are so many original stories waiting to be told. Go make those.

The Networking Question That Caught Me Off Guard

“If you could meet one person from the past, who would it be?”

It’s one of those light questions meant to pass the time at a networking event, just small talk to keep the energy moving.

But when someone tossed it out casually across the table, I found myself… stumped.

Some people had ready answers:
— A beloved grandparent.
— A revolutionary leader.
— A favorite author who left us too soon.

Me? I blanked.
Not because I didn’t have anyone in mind, but because I’d never really sat with the question before.

Later that evening, though, it lingered. And the longer I thought about it, the clearer my answer became.

David Bowie.

Of course.

Not just because of the music—though Let’s Dance and Under Pressure will forever live on my playlist.

But because of who he was beyond the music.

There was always something about Bowie that felt a little otherworldly—but also incredibly grounded.
He came across as a quiet genius.

🎧 In interviews, he was never loud. He didn’t need to be. There was a stillness to him—a self-assured curiosity that made him the most interesting person in the room without ever raising his voice.

📚 He was a voracious reader. Did you know he once shared his top 100 books? It’s still one of my favorite corners of the internet. He reportedly carried books with him everywhere—on tour, in transit, in those quiet in-between spaces.

🎭 And then there was the reinvention.
Ziggy Stardust.
The Thin White Duke.
The elder statesman of cool.

Bowie shape-shifted through decades of culture without ever chasing relevance.
In a world obsessed with being louder and doing more, he showed us what quiet evolution looks like.

I’ve always admired that kind of transformation—the kind that doesn’t announce itself but leaves a mark anyway.

And then there’s his relationship with Iman.
Graceful. Grounded. Built on mutual admiration.
I’ve admired Iman for years—so much so that I named my daughter after her.

So what would I ask Bowie if I had the chance to meet him?

Not about fame.
Not even about music.

I’d ask:
“Can I spend a day in your personal library and just talk books with you?”

Because I truly believe that what we read reveals more than what we say.

And behind all the personas and glitter and genius, I suspect I’d find David Jones—the deeply curious mind behind it all.

The Magic Of Physical Books vs An E-Reader

Why sometimes the old way is still the best way.

Credit: Unsplash

I own four e-readers.

A Kindle, two Kobos, and a Boox Palma—each with its own perks. Yes, I know. I'm flexing a little. 😅

But here’s the truth: as efficient as e-readers are, sometimes nothing compares to the quiet, unexpected magic of reading a real, physical book.

And a few weeks ago, I was reminded just how true that is.

I was at the hospital for a routine follow-up, already bracing for a long wait.

Normally, I’d bring my Kindle. But that day, I grabbed the book I was reading at the time, Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas—a chunky fantasy novel in paperback that had been sitting on my shelf for years.

(𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴, 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭.)

While flipping through the pages, I noticed one of the staff members stealing glances at the cover. She looked intrigued, but didn’t say anything until later, by pure coincidence, when she ended up processing my payment.

As she keyed in my bill, she asked quietly, “Are you enjoying Throne of Glass?”

She was a fellow fantasy fan. Had seen Sarah J. Maas’s books around but hadn’t picked one up yet. That one question turned into a five-minute chat about favorite series, strong female leads, and book recs. 

(Naturally, I told her to start with A Court of Thorns and Roses. I mean c'mon, you gotta read this series if you haven't people.)

Two strangers, connected through the story in my hands.

This isn’t a rare event. It’s happened so many times, in the most ordinary places:
💅 Nail salons
🛫 Airport lounges
🏥 Waiting rooms

Every time, someone sees the cover of a book I’m reading and says:
“Oh, I’ve read that!” or “I’ve been meaning to start this. Is it any good?”

And I tend to do the same when I see a fellow book reader with an interesting book. 

These small, spontaneous connections? They don’t happen with e-readers.

With a Kindle or Kobo, no one knows what you’re reading. It could be a Pulitzer Prize winner or a spicy dark romance, you’re basically holding a black mirror of mystery.

(Although... I do read my spicy dark romances on my e-reader specifically so I don't get judged in public. 😂 We all have our tricks.)

But here the deal:
✨ E-readers are convenient and great for privacy.
📚 Physical books are great for connection.

Reading a physical book in public is like quietly wearing your heart—or your reading taste—on your sleeve.

You’re giving the world a glimpse into your inner world. And sometimes, that glimpse is enough to spark a conversation, an exchange, even a brief sense of community with someone you’ve never met.

Sure, there’s a little vulnerability there. 

You might get judged for your book choice. But more often than not, you’ll find someone who lights up and says, “I love that book,” or “I’ve been meaning to read that too.”

And suddenly, the book becomes more than a story. It becomes a bridge.

Look, I’m not giving up on e-readers. They’re brilliant for travel, midnight reading, and saving space (and money) in the long run. I love mine. All four of them.

But that small hospital moment reminded me why physical books still matter.

Because sometimes, the best stories don’t just live on the page.

They begin when someone notices the story you're holding in your hands.