Disclaimer: This is not a political or serious book at all. This is a purely fictional novel that I took on as an escape from the mind-scrambling reality that my thrust into politics has become.

This book was recommended to me by Claudia. It was her favourite book as a young adult, although she had not read it for 10 years or so. I took it on to hopefully learn something about her and to strengthen our bond as a couple.

This has been one of my favourite reads in a long time. In its essence, the book is a book about books. Set in a post-war Barcelona, a young boy is taken by his father into a labyrinthine sanctuary for forgotten books and allowed to pick out one of his choosing. He finds The Shadow of the Wind by Julian Carax. This seemingly innocuous occurrence sets off a sequence of events that nobody could foresee, including an author tormented by a lost love, a detective with grudge-born bloodlust, a visit to the uppermost echelons of Spanish society and dark nights spent in the downtrodden depths of the city’s sewer-dwellers. It is a marvel to read, if slightly dated already.

Zafon’s use of language, or at least the translated version thereof, was inspiring. For long periods, I found myself completely absorbed in his prose, each word stimulating some recess of my imagination to spur on the visual story in my head. It reminded me of why I enjoy writing so much myself. You got the sense Zafon was personally titillated while crafting characters like Fermin, Julian, and Gustavo.

I don’t often read just for pleasure, but this was a pleasure to read.