“She could have had a life as potent and dangerous as literature itself.”

I just finished re-reading The Hours by Michael Cunningham. The novel (and movie) were so important to me as a teenager. I remember watching the giddy delight of watching the movie on VHS at my friend Stephanie’s house. Even now, I can almost feel the carpet under our thighs as we sat cross-legged in her den, leaning toward the television set, crying together.

It was so rare, back then, that I felt comfortable—safe, really—sharing a piece of art I cared about with a peer.

I picked up a used copy of the novel last week at Under the Volcano Books in Mexico City. And wow, what a delight to return to a book that first gripped me nearly two decades ago and to discover that Young, Sad, Closeted, DRAMATIC Saeed had excellent literary instincts. And, of course, now that I’m in mid-thirties, I have a whole new appreciation for a story about facing the many, many hours ahead of us.

What’s a book you’ve re-read lately? How did it feel this time?