On rereading and finding joy in difference

I was born just a little too early to appreciate “The Giver” when I was a child. Over the years, I’ve noticed that age 12 seems to be the sweet spot when kids fall in love with Lois Lowry’s most famous novel—sometimes even in school. But “The Giver” debuted in 1993, the year I turned 12. I missed out.

“The Giver” introduces us to a world of sameness. It’s considered rude to note that someone is different–even though difference clearly exists. When the main character, Jonas, becomes the Receiver of the community’s memories, he discovers the risks they’ve avoided and the beauty they miss in return.

Some of my peers caught on to this book soon after publication, but I remained clueless about “The Giver’s” greatness until I was 33. That summer I attended Book Expo America, where I wandered between trade show booths, loaded up on advance reader copies, popped into panel discussions and queued up for autographs from authors I admired. I couldn’t wait to meet Ann M. Martin, creator of “The Baby-Sitters Club.” But my sister, Cristin, was delighted that I might have the chance to meet the author of her favorite novel.

The movie of “The Giver” was 10 weeks away, and Lois Lowry’s line was the longest I saw at the event. I joined the row of people that snaked across the convention center and wrote Cristin’s name on the sticky note I would hand Lowry before she autographed a copy of the novel. As I waited, I heard people complaining that Lowry was cold or too quick with them. She’s been signing copies of this book for 21 years and this line is hundreds of people long, I thought. What did they expect, a hug?

Forty-five minutes later, I handed Lowry the sticky note with Cristin’s name. “‘The Giver’ is my sister’s favorite book in the history of books,” I said as she wrote. She looked up. “Is that who this is for?” I confirmed, and Lowry’s face broke into a grin.

Cristin was thrilled. She sent me home with her original copy of the book and made me promise to read it. I did, and I finally understood the pull of this short novel.

I love rereading. Some people are one-and-done readers. There’s so much out there; why would they revisit a book they’ve already experienced? Rewatching a movie takes 90 minutes, but rereading a book can take days or weeks.

It helps that I read fast. And I love returning to familiar stories. Sometimes it’s like visiting with a close friend who understands and loves me without judgment. A favorite book can be a restful escape, especially when I’m stressed or in a reading rut. And returning to a more philosophical story, like “The Giver,” is a chance to continue learning from it.

There are books I return to nearly once a year. But “The Giver” didn’t immediately make that list. I loved it, and I was sure I’d come back to it, someday. It spent several years tucked on a shelf between my other middle-grade novels.

And then Cristin died. She was alone in her bedroom with the door closed, and her roommate didn’t investigate until Cristin’s job and our family couldn’t get a hold of her. We aren’t certain how long she’d been dead before she was found.

When a body has been in a space for several days, the items in that room may or may not be salvageable. As we tried to process my sister’s death, my dad traveled to her apartment to pack up what he could. The one token I hoped to remember my sister by was her autographed copy of “The Giver.” It was just a book, I reminded myself. Just cardboard and paper, not a sacred package. I would be OK if it had to be destroyed; memory would live on. But I was relieved when Dad brought it home.

Eight months later, on Sept. 14, Cristin would’ve turned 35. It’s hard to predict how milestones like her birthday will affect me year to year. Sometimes it hits harder than her death day; we were born 14 months apart, and every birthday marks a widening gap between us. She’ll always be 34. I’m now 10 years older than the last age she saw.

On her first posthumous birthday, I settled in to read “The Giver” for the second time. I knew I’d need comfort and I could find it in the book. A children’s chapter book, it’s an ideal one- or two-day read. Rather than mourning, I spent Cristin’s birthday in a world she had turned to throughout her life.

It’s now my ritual to reread “The Giver” on Cristin’s birthday, one of the best things I do for myself each year. This morning I completed my ninth journey with this book. As Jonas discovered there’s possibility beyond the world he knew, I took a fresh look at the present day. “The Giver” brought me back to wonder. Complexity. Nuance. And it reminded me of my sister. In a world that increasingly pushes for sameness, Cristin found joy in difference. She only had 34 years in this world, but spent them defending everyone’s rights to choose and to be themselves. 

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