Sometimes I meet people who say they don’t like books. Of course, everyone has their own preferences. That’s perfectly normal. After all, I also have my own likes and dislikes, some of which might seem strange to others.

But with billions of books out there, I genuinely believe there’s at least one waiting to touch every heart, one extraordinary book that sparks an irresistible craving for more stories, more knowledge, more beautiful words.

If this happened to you—if the right books has almost magically appeared in your life at the right time to hold your hand for the journey—you know it feels like a special kind of grace.

Anne Bogel, I’d Rather Be Reading: The Delights and Dilemmas of the Reading Life

I say this confidently because it’s exactly what happened to me.

Braiding Sweetgrass Rewired My Relationship with Nature

I used to believe nonfiction books about nature just weren’t my cup of tea. To me, they felt like dense biology textbooks disguised as casual reads that filled with complicated jargon and endless facts. Honestly, if I truly wanted to keep up with science, wouldn’t reading a research journal make more sense?

I had completely convinced myself certain genres were off-limits. Until, one day, Braiding Sweetgrass found me. It wasn’t intentional. I wasn’t actively searching. Instead, thanks to book platform algorithms, this book appeared on my radar, and glowing ratings from countless readers piqued my curiosity.

From the very first page, Braiding Sweetgrass captured me entirely. Its breathtaking prose, gentle yet profound storytelling, and beautiful weaving of science with Indigenous wisdom were unlike anything I’d ever encountered. I couldn’t put it down. It felt like poetry blossoming right before my eyes. It didn’t simply feed me information; it nourished my soul, forming a deep, heartfelt connection with nature, something I never realized I was yearning for. It astonished me to discover that nonfiction could be so beautiful.

Whenever someone asks for a recommendation, Braiding Sweetgrass instantly springs to mind. It doesn’t matter if they’re specifically seeking nature writing or just exploring nonfiction for the first time, this book remains my top suggestion.

Inquire Within Opened My Heart to Poetry

A similar magic happened with poetry book. For years, I avoided poetry, secretly feeling they were a bit too abstract or even pretentious. It always seemed elusive, a puzzle I wasn’t equipped to solve. Rather than pulling me closer, the words felt like barriers, creating ironic distance instead of connection.

Then, unexpectedly, I discovered IN-Q. My first encounter with his work was through his poem, Goldfish, in Your Brain on Art, and it was an eye-opening moment. His poetry held a unique power to me, expressing complex emotions with effortless clarity and gentle simplicity, unraveling the chaos in my mind. Suddenly, the overwhelming world felt softer, clearer, and lighter.

Curious, I eagerly explored more of his work and stumbled upon his bestselling poetry collection filled with glowing reviews, Inquire Within. Once I began reading the book, I simply couldn’t stop. Each line resonated deeply, lingering in my heart long after I’d turned the pages. By the time I reached the end, I realized something astonishing: I had genuinely fallen in love with poetry.

When I Stopped Avoiding the Penguin Classics Shelf

For the longest time, I kept my distance from classic books. They felt intimidating, like books meant for someone else. Just to clarify, according to Penguin’s website, Penguin Classics includes the Black Spine editions, which feature works written up to the early 20th century, and Modern Classics, launched in 1961, which is an ever-growing list of influential books from the 20th and 21st centuries that have earned their place as “modern” classics.

I used to believe my brain just wasn’t built for that kind of reading. The language felt too dense, the themes too far removed. That was until I picked up Too Much of Life by Clarice Lispector. Seven hundred pages. I thought I’d struggle. But the title intrigued me that I could not resist. Turned out, I found myself completely absorbed. I didn’t even realize I had reached the end until I felt that familiar, hollow ache that comes when a truly good book leaves you. I remember sitting with the sadness of it and almost immediately reaching for more.

That one book cracked something open in me. It led me straight to The Copenhagen Trilogy by Tove Ditlevsen, which I devoured with the same kind of awe. Ever since, I’ve found myself quietly falling in love with modern classics. Those lyrical and beautifully human stories I once thought were beyond my reach.

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These experiences solidified my belief that no one truly dislikes reading or any activity, for that matter. They simply haven’t found their literary soulmate or their perfect activity match yet.

I apply this mindset broadly: whenever I feel reluctant or convinced something isn’t for me, I remind myself that maybe I just haven’t found the right piece to spark my enjoyment.

Still, I won’t force anyone (including myself) into activities or books that don’t resonate naturally. With time, fate will introduce us to those perfect experiences. And when that moment arrives, instead of struggling to find enjoyment, our new challenge will be learning how to manage our newfound passion.

If you haven’t yet experienced the joy of falling in love with a book, don’t stop searching. Your perfect match is patiently waiting to captivate you—and when you finally discover it, your world will forever change.