In “The Alchemist,” a young shepherd sets off to find his treasure in a faraway land.
The quest brings choices, dilemmas, compromises, danger, disappointment, love, mystery, near-death experiences and, finally, the revelation that throughout his long, arduous trek, his treasure was always close at hand.
Paulo Coehlo’s enchanting story has captivated readers for decades.
I just finished reading it — for the fourth time.
Its simple yet profound plot, its compelling characters, its magic and charm are still intriguing. Each time I read it I discover something new, but perhaps the find is in me, not the book.
I love stories about treasure hunts because, almost always, they are metaphors for other, more important quests. They are about our universal need to find purpose and through that, happiness.
A good book can have lifelong effects. It can reveal truths in you as it sends others on a journey. I first realized this many years ago when I read “The Hobbit” by J.R.R. Tolkien. Bilbo’s quest for treasure soon became my search for meaning.
Over the years, I’ve read “The Hobbit” four times, including once to my daughter when she was in grade school.
As this year’s crop of graduates sets off in search of their “treasure,” aka the key that unlocks the purpose of their life, the ubiquitous phrase “follow you heart” becomes almost cloyingly obnoxious.
And yet sometimes a cliché is overused for a reason: It conveys a truth. The quest for purpose, for meaning, for your raison d’etre can be an exhaustive, never-ending one. And yet, so frequently, it can be found right inside your own heart.
I love books that make me wonder and wander among those thoughts. I love to venture into another world, all the while taking a deep dive into my own. I love to walk in a character’s shoes so that I might better appreciate my own.
For me, reading is both a pleasure and a quest … of knowledge, wisdom, wordsmithery and self-actualization. It is a hunt for treasure, real and metaphoric, defined by plot, setting, tone and point of view. It can come in the form of a slow awakening or a quick study, but I refuse to let it become a contest.
I don’t care how many books I read a year. I want to linger in the good ones, take my time on the journeys, reread passages, re-appreciate plot twists and turns of phrases. Sometimes I love a story so much, I never want to close the book on it.
We’re all seekers, of understanding, connection and an explanation for the inexplicable. And we all have a quest to become who we’re wired to be. For it is not what’s in the treasure chest that will transform our existence; it is what we believe the contents will enable us to become.
Published in 1988, “The Alchemist” is a relatively short book with a long shelf life. My first read was soon after it was released. I reread it after my mother borrowed my copy and remarked how much she loved it. I read it again in 2012, after my mother died. And I reached for it most recently after my sister died and I began planning a trip to Andalusia, Spain, where the story takes place.
Each reading brought a different focus because each time I read it, I was different. Over this time, I have lost family members, left a career and struggled with very difficult missions. The hardships have simultaneously made me feel both destroyed and blessed beyond measure. They have been lessons in the evolving nature of happiness.
I embrace books by degrees. Some are fun. Some are informative or terrifying or infuriating. But the ones I prize the most are the ones in which I find a piece of myself.
Those include “Braiding Sweetgrass” by Robin Wall Kimmerer, “Tuesdays with Morrie” by Mitch Albom, “The Old Man and the Sea” by Ernest Hemingway, “Travels with Charley” by John Steinbeck, “Beloved” by Toni Morrison and “To Kill a Mockingbird” by Harper Lee.
Each of these books moved me to a new place. Each presented characters who made me see through a new lens.
When I finish a work that is inspiring, I need a minute, or sometimes a lifetime, to absorb and dissect and just live with the prose.
Of course, I pluck from the best-seller lists as much as the next reader. I enjoyed Stephen King’s “Fairy Tale” and Hernan Diaz’s “Trust,” James McBride’s “The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store,” Barbara Kingsolver’s “Demon Copperhead,” and Gabrielle Zevin’s “The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry.”
But I don’t feel the need to read them again.
Each book has its own mission, to entertain, inform, scare the hell out of you, maybe make you weep. And each will certainly make you think.
The best books utilize empathy, imagery, mystery and effective dialogue to transport you, and sometimes change you.
They are impossible to forget. And yet, each time you read them, it’s like you’ve never read them before.
They are portals. They are works of genius.
They are, in fact, the treasure.
Donna Vickroy is an award-winning reporter, editor and columnist who worked for the Daily Southtown for 38 years. She can be reached at donnavickroy4@gmail.com.
