“Life is short and the world / is at least half terrible,” observes the poet Maggie Smith. But which are the books to reach for when the terrible half is in the ascendant? I’ve come to treasure a particular category I’d define as the literary comfort novel: elegant and beautifully written stories that renew our faith in humanity, that leave us better than they found us, that work – and thus expand – the muscle of the heart. Lately, I’ve come to realise that I want to read one story: despite everything, it is going to be OK.
That “despite” is key. Solace is distinct from escape, and I’d define a literary comfort novel as distinct from pure escapism. I don’t want the narcotic and temporary palliative of the soap opera – without judgment, I should add – but, perhaps because I have been aged or wounded out of fairy stories, I want a more convincing consolation, grounded in real life. The best books rebuild our strength so we can face reality, and maybe even fight to change it. I don’t want briefly to suspend my disbelief. Instead, I long to believe again.
