I don’t mind getting a bit soppy and cliched from time to time. But the thing is, when you read a good book, a really good book, all your problems and issues and concerns just drift away. I know, I know, nothing new to see here – but as I was sitting at lunch, in the Caf at VicRoads, surrounded by hundreds of my fellow co workers (most eating at the Caf like me just to keep out of the heat, because while the food in the Caf aint much to sing about, the Caf is at least air conditioned) all of them talking and laughing and smiling and making the most of their just about edibile meals, I got lost in a good book. No matter how loud things got, the book refused to let me be distracted. It had my attention, fair and square.

I’ve spoken about Dennis Lehane a number of times on this LJ. Aside from Stephen King, he’s probably the writer whose books I look forward to the most. I’m about 1/4 of the way through his new book, The Given Day, which is already looking to be his masterpiece. It’s over 700 pages long. It’s about the Boston Police Dept just after the First World War. It’s about racism and revolution and baseball. And the writing is so good that I’ve stopped being jealous and I’m just enjoying it. I already know, without finishing it, that I’ll be recommending this book in my review of great book I read in 2009.

But I’m not here to sing praise of Lehane’s strength as writer and a story teller. I’ve recommended his work before and you – who read this LJ – have either cottoned on to the fact that he’s great and you should be reading him, or have decided that crime is not your thing. And that’s fine by me.

This post is about the joy of a good book. It’s such a well worn concept. A cliche mentioned by so many people. But it made me realise how much time I waste reading books that don’t please me. Because there’s nothing in the world like getting totally absorbed by an amazing piece of writing. It’s the most wonderful experience, and while I know it won’t make your problems go away, it will put them hold – even if only for twenty minutes.

So do yourself and favour and buy yourself a really good book. Maybe from a writer who you know can deliver the goods. Or maybe someone new, but you’ve heard a bit of a buzz about. Or maybe an old favourite, a comfort book that reminds you of when you were a bit younger and the problems of the world weren’t so large and menacing.

Go on. Do it.