Do you reread books?
Usually, my mental conversation goes like this:
Hello, book I read ten years ago. I have a huge stack of books I have yet to read... but maybe instead, of reading those, I should dust you off and reread you!
I already know what happens!
And yet... I was a different person ten years ago. I was afraid of different things. I had different goals. I was sleeping with someone else. I was not yet a mother.
Perhaps I have changed, no wait, I know I have changed... have you?
Of course, you haven't changed. You are a static medium. But my impressions of you will have evolved. I have read so much more since I last held you. I have journeyed to new places and my eyes are wiser now.
Perhaps... perhaps you have new things to teach me?
But... could it be that I loved you because of who I was back then, and reading you today would deprive me of that comforting nostalgia?
Maybe it is better not to risk it.
But maybe it is...
Books I have intentionally reread despite the fact that I loved them the first time:
To Kill a Mockingbird
History of Love
The Color Purple
Mists of Avalon
(I loved them all the second and third time as well.)