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Have you ever realized how you tend to be attracted to a piece of writing that has a soul? Specifically, a soul that connects with yours, the reader’s? I feel the writing we like, seems to have that ‘something’, that intangible mass of ephemeral beauty that touches us somewhere.
See, there might be books that are perfect in terms of the choice of language, or metaphors, or literary sophistication but if it doesn’t speak to you, like, pulling you out of a crowd and whispering some secrets only into your ears, you might not feel excited about that book. At least, I won’t be.
Recently, while reading a book this reflection hit me. A book might wear all the cosmetics in the world, but if its soul doesn’t shine for me, then I might not hold it close to my chest and promise spending my time with it.