I've been reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, and I'm ashamed that it has taken me this long to get around to it. There are a lot of books that fall into that category; I go back and forth between being happy that there will never be a shortage of good books and panicked that there's not enough time to read them all. Anyway, I really, really like this one. I love how much Francie loves books:
From that time on, the world was hers for the reading. She would never be lonely again, never miss the lack of intimate friends. Books became her friends and there was one for every mood. There was poetry for quiet companionship. There was adventure when she tired of quiet hours. There would be love stories when she came into adolescence and when she wanted to feel a closeness to someone she could read a biography. On that day when she first knew she could read, she made a vow to read one book a day as long as she lived.
I also recently read The Fault in Our Stars, which was fine. I'm neutral about it. But I so appreciated this part:
Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book. And then there are books…which you can’t tell people about, books so special and rare and yours that advertising your affection feels like a betrayal.
Yes. That. I feel so protective of my favorite books. If I had to guess, I'd say that you feel that way too.