Bed Reading: What Makes a Comfort Book?

I had the flu a few weeks ago and while I lay in bed groaning, I thought, “This is the perfect time to catch up on some reading.” Except I only wanted to read one thing and it definitely wasn’t what I was supposed to be reading. But I knew it would make me feel better. A comfort book, if you will. Yeah, I spent the week reading that instead of the things I was supposed to be reviewing. Give me a break, I was sick.

Everyone knows about comfort food. Macaroni and cheese, ice cream, mashed potatoes. The things that make us feel better when we’re tired, or sad, or sick. Since there’s comfort food, I think there are definitely other things that make us feel better on bad days. Like movies and TV shows, video games, music, and yes, books.

And the thing is, these are all going to be really subjective. Something that makes you feel better isn’t necessarily going to make anyone else feel better. I’m not really into sweets, so ice cream isn’t a comfort food for me. Give me all the potatoes. And my grandma’s chicken corn soup. I like Disney movies when I’m too tired or stressed to think, but those might make other people gag.

Still, I think there are some factors that all comfort books share in order to be considered “comforting”. They don’t all have to have all of these characteristics but they do have to have at least one or two.

Comfort books are:

1. Familiar. There are plenty of books that become instant favorites the first time you read them, but I’m not sure they can be counted as instant comfort books. Maybe it will be after you’ve finished it and it’s delivered on all of your expectations. But something unfamiliar is always going to have a degree of uncertainty. Even if you’re super adventurous and love new experiences (aka not me), you have to admit there’s something comforting about the tried and true. The familiar.

For me, this is pretty much anything by Tamora Pierce. I’ve been reading her books since I was a pre-teen, and I could probably quote large chunks of them if my life depended on it. Or if whoever I’m talking to doesn’t back away quickly enough. Wild Magic has always been a go-to, but my favorites are Trickster’s Choice and Trickster’s Queen.

2. Nostalgic. This is one I don’t think applies to all comfort books. But it might be the only criteria to qualify others. The same way comfort food reminds us strongly of home and family, comfort books can take us back to those fond childhood memories.

In my world, The Prydain Chronicles by Lloyd Alexander remind me of my mom who read every single one of them to me as a kid. I learned to love fantasy on her knee, literally. And I learned heroism from Taran. If you haven’t read these, first, where have you been? And second, start with The Book of Three.

3. Uncomplicated. This might get me kicked out of a lot of book clubs and again, this doesn’t apply to all comfort books, just a lot of them. I’m not sure how else to describe this quality except as “doesn’t make me think too hard.” I love epic fantasies with dozens of interconnected plots as much as the next nerd, but not when I’m tired, stressed, or have brain coming out my ears. That’s kind of the point. I don’t want to have to think too hard when I’ve lost the capability of intelligent speech. It needs to be easy to follow, either because it falls under the familiar category from above or because it’s not hard to read.

One of my favorites is The Blue Sword. In this one, Robin McKinley has a really simple style, free of frills, and the story itself is a fairly straightforward fish-out-of-water/girl-power-saves-the-day. It’s simple, yet complete. Love without angst, war without subterfuge, world building without appendices, and it stands alone at an easy, reasonable length.

4. Make you laugh…or cry. I don’t always like the second one. When I’m weepy, I don’t really want to be more weepy. But I understand catharsis, and sometimes I want to be reminded my life isn’t so bad. I always want to be reminded I can laugh. Either one can be enormously comforting when you’re hurting.

For the laugh, you really can’t go wrong with Terry Pratchett. And I would argue strongly that Going Postal is some of his best work. It’s actually the one I read for this most recent illness. It’s not just hilarious. Every laugh is meaningful in a way not always found in comedic fantasy. Although, if you haven’t read any Discworld novels, I’d recommend starting with The Color of Magic or Guards! Guards! They’re better introductions to his world.

As for the cry… I don’t really like sad books. You know the ones that make you ugly cry just because they can. I’m looking at you, The Fault in our Stars. But Magic’s Pawn, Magic’s Promise, and Magic’s Price by Mercedes Lackey definitely hit that bittersweet spot of beautiful and poignant without being melodramatic or hopeless.

And finally, comfort books:

5. Hit all your buttons. It can be hard to find a book that’s just perfect for you in every way. One that has love, conflict, redemption, and justice in exactly the right proportions for you. Everyone has different ideas about what makes a story satisfying and getting that perfect mix is elusive. It’s kind of like falling in love. So when you find it, hold onto it because there’s nothing more comforting than a book that just really “gets you.”

For me, that’s A Civil Campaign and Mirror Dance by Lois McMaster Bujold. Two very different books in the same series. Both felt like they were written just for me. Picking one up is like talking to a best friend who can sort my life out and help me recharge when I’m done with the world.

So what elements do you look for in a comfort book? Are there any essentials I missed? Maybe for you it’s a certain genre or author. Or maybe complex storylines help you relax. What do you read when you have the flu?