📚 Books I Keep Coming Back To

 A soft love letter to the ones that stayed with me

This is not a list of new best sellers trending on booktok, and I'm sorry if that's a disappointment to anyone.

I’ve been an avid reader my whole life. When the world felt like too much—and it often did—books became my safest safe place. Stories have always been where I go to breathe, to escape, to return to myself.

And the truth is, a lot of my favorite books have probably shaped who I am. Some are cozy, comforting spaces that let me drift into wilder, more magical yonders. Some are mirrors that reflect the world as it really is. And some are anchors—stories that hold me steady when I feel like I’m slipping.

This isn’t a ranked list. These are just the books I can always come home to.

☁️ Comfort Reads

Some books just feel like home. They don’t need to be perfect or profound—they just need to wrap around you like a blanket when your brain is tired or your heart is heavy. These are the ones I return to again and again, for different reasons but always with the same feeling: comfort.

The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

I know I’ve talked about it before, but The Hobbit is the ultimate comfort read for me. It’s cozy, whimsical, full of food descriptions and safe little adventures with just enough magic to keep you dreaming. Every time I open it, I feel like I’m coming back to something familiar and kind.

The Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling

Okay—let’s get this out of the way: J.K. Rowling is more than a little problematic and I have literally zero respect for her as a person and as an author, and I absolutely recognize the flaws in this series as an adult. But as a kid, these books were one of the first real escapes I ever had. They got me through some really hard years. And while my relationship with the series has changed, I can still hold space for the comfort it gave me when I needed it most.

Light on Yoga by B.K.S. Iyengar

This one might not seem like a “comfort read” in the traditional sense, but it is for me. Whenever I feel disconnected from my body, my breath, or myself, I can flip to almost any page and find something grounding. It’s a quiet companion—steady, reliable, and deeply reassuring.

You Are Not So Smart by David McRaney

This one comforts my brain. It’s a deep dive into cognitive biases, behavioral science, and all the ways we trick ourselves into believing we’re more rational than we really are. It’s the kind of book that makes me feel less alone in my chaos—and a little more curious about it, too.

Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert

This one’s for my creative heart. Big Magic always reminds me that creating doesn’t have to be perfect or precious—it just has to be yours. Every time I re-read it, it gives me permission to make things again without fear. And that’s the softest kind of comfort there is.

✍️ Books That Changed Me

The DSM-V.
Just kidding.
(Kind of.)

Jokes aside, these are the books that genuinely changed my life. Some cracked open the way I think. Some helped me understand myself or the world around me in a completely new way. Some made me angry—in the kind of way that wakes you up. These aren’t comfort reads. These are clarity reads.

The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali

This one hit me like a quiet earthquake. It’s philosophical, spiritual, and deeply internal—not a book you read once and move on from. It’s one I return to when I feel unmoored. The ideas inside it shifted how I understand identity, presence, suffering, and stillness.

V for Vendetta by Alan Moore & David Lloyd

Yes, it’s a graphic novel. And yes, it counts. V for Vendetta was one of the first books that fully radicalized me. It made me question systems, authority, control, and the stories we’re told about safety. The visual storytelling is iconic, but the emotional impact is what stayed with me.

Brave New World, 1984, & Fahrenheit 451

I read all three of these way too young, and I honestly think they rewired my brain. These dystopian classics didn’t just scare me—they lit a fire. They made me critical. Made me skeptical. Made me watchful. They probably explain a lot about my issues with authority, actually.

What to Say When You Talk to Yourself by Shad Helmstetter

This book helped me understand just how much my inner voice mattered—and how much power I had to reshape it. It’s not self-help in a preachy way. It’s practical, impactful, and surprisingly emotional. A real turning point in how I talk to myself (and how I treat myself, too).

That’s Not What I Meant by Deborah Tannen

This one is all about communication—why we misunderstand each other, and how our language habits are shaped by everything from gender to culture to anxiety. It gave me language for things I didn’t know how to explain before. It changed how I listen, how I speak, and how I relate.

🌱 Books I Wish I Could Read for the First Time Again

These are the books that cracked my heart open when I was younger—the ones I devoured under the covers with a flashlight, or re-read so many times the pages started to give out. I know they probably wouldn’t hit the same now. I know I can’t go back to being 11. But I wish I could.

I wish I could open them again for the first time and feel that exact kind of wonder, possibility, and deep emotional chaos that only hits when you’re young and still figuring out who you are.

The Only Alien on the Planet by Kristen D. Randle

This book was strange and emotional and so quietly powerful. I moved a lot as a kid, and I felt the dissecting pain of not having anyone—of being surrounded by people and still feeling completely alone. This book made me feel seen in a way I didn’t even know I needed. I loved the kinds of connections Ginny built, the way they grew slowly and with real care. It made something in me exhale.

Feed by M.T. Anderson

This one hit hard in a way I didn’t fully understand at the time. It was eerie and sad and prescient, and it made me feel things I couldn’t yet name. I’d love to read it again without knowing what’s coming—to feel that slow dread and heartbreak fresh.

Old Magic by Marianne Curley

I was obsessed with this book. Magic, time travel, brooding boys, ancient curses—it had everything. It was weird and wild and so completely my jam. The vibes were impeccable and I would love to relive the drama of it all again for the first time.

The Named series by Marianne Curley

Honestly, the entire series deserves to be on this list. I was so into the lore, the time travel, the emotional stakes. These books made my brain light up. They were messy and intense and full of heart—and they made me want to write stories of my own.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot

These books were hilarious and awkward and full of soft rebellion. They let me be a little dramatic, a little cringey, a little chaotic—because Mia was all of that and still lovable. They shaped how I saw growing up. I know I’d read them differently now, but I’d still love to experience that first-time joy all over again.

🌙 More Than Stories

Books changed my life. In a lot of ways, and probably too honestly, books probably even saved my life.

They’re not just stories. They’re emotional landscapes. They’re friends. They’re mirrors, portals, anchors, and time machines. The books I return to don’t always make sense on paper—but they make sense in my bones. They helped me survive. They still do.

They’re also part of the bigger picture. They shape our emotional worlds and our political ones. Reading is often seen as an escape, and it can be—but it’s also an act of awareness, reflection, and sometimes quiet resistance. Whether it’s for comfort or change, picking up a book is never a neutral act.

This week’s mantra:
"Stories are a way home."