Here’s something funny about rereading: when we reread, it is virtually impossible to do so acquisitively or instrumentally or as sheer consumer. Rereading almost never provides new information or cultural cachet, as reading a new book might. Rereading does not aid the publisher’s goal of making money, as I already own the battered book. Nor does it typically fit into my own plans for new projects. Rereading is an act of resistance against the creeping instrumentalization and monetization of every moment of my time. But that’s not the main point of rereading, just a bonus. Rereading is about formation.

I reread books because I love the story, or the voice, or the characters. And rereading increases that love.