Much like revisiting your favourite comfort TV, there’s something stabilising and reassuring about returning to a favourite book – you know its twists and turns, meaning you can sink deeper into your sofa (or bed, or park bench) safe in the knowledge that nothing will throw you for a loop, as you reacquaint yourself with beloved characters who feel like long lost friends. Or, maybe the books you reread the most are non-fiction classics which continuously clarify the paths you want to take in your future life and career, or even novels which are strange and slippery in nature, requiring multiple reads to appreciate fully. The British editors’ most reread books encompass all of that and more. Below, six staffers share the titles they devour again and again.
Janay Bailey, senior talent casting manager
One book I reread a lot is . It’s such an insightful and refreshing read, particularly for Black British women, as other books tend to lean towards more of an African American lens. It was wonderful to hear about the experiences of other Black women, gain sage advice and encouragement, and to learn from an incredible collection of people as they share their journeys, challenges, highs and lows. This is more than a self-help book for Black women, though – it is a book for everyone. It offers the opportunity for others to listen, learn and appreciate the diverse experiences of Black women.
Slay In Your Lane: The Black Girl Bible by Elizabeth Uviebinené and Yomi Adegoke
Another book I return to is by Toni Morrison, one of the greatest authors. It provides an unflinching exploration into race, class, family trauma, colourism and beauty standards. I read this at a young age and I think part of what made it so impactful was that I could recognise parallels between my own life and the main character, Pecola’s. By the end of it, it prompted a reality check when it came to my own personal beauty and self worth. The way that Toni Morrison so eloquently explores this – with a poetic touch whilst confronting you with society’s standards and expectations – is so powerful, and stays with you long after you’ve read it.
The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison
And then there’s The Art of War. Now, you would think, why would I need to read a book on ancient Chinese military strategy whilst working in this industry? The answer is simple: Sun Tzu’s principles are timeless and can be masterfully used across every profession. The Art of War offers essential lessons on becoming a successful leader, adaptability, conflict resolution, strategic thinking and preparation. To me, what makes the book so relevant is that the lessons extend far beyond the battlefield. Sun Tzu’s teaching shows that wisdom can be found in the most unexpected places and the book is a valuable perspective on how to approach situations with greater awareness, discipline and intention.
The Art of War by Sun Tzu
Whenever I’ve powered through whatever brand spanking new hardbacks are the chatter of the office, I often feel a need to slip back into stories that I know off by heart. Perhaps it’s because an English literature degree required reading thousands of pages a week, but I often find that my comfort reads are big old novels that encapsulate a whole world, where well-rounded characters feel like old (if fated) friends. I’ve read Tolstoy’s and Henry James’s countless times, and also love revisiting the gilded worlds in New York and Paris depicted in F Scott Fitzgerald’s Jazz Era polemic and the cafe culture of the literary world in Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast. For something laugh out loud, Stella Gibbons’s , a satirical story about an orphan abandoned on a farm in Howling, Sussex, never fails to amuse, and for the greatest campus romp of all time, which I’m sure will feature on many a list, you can’t beat Donna Tartt’s .
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
The Portrait Of A Lady by Henry James
The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald
A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway
Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons
The Secret History by Donna Tartt
When Patti Smith’s best-selling memoir first came out, I was a teenager. It was exactly the sort of book that appealed to me at the time. Deliciously written, pretentious at times; like a fairytale, except set in New York City in the ’70s at the Chelsea Hotel. I wanted to be Patti when I grew up, or maybe her friend and lover, the photographer Robert Mapplethorpe, whom the book is also about – I wasn’t sure. I read it many, times after that. Not for the plot, necessarily, but for how it made me feel – like anything was possible! Like all anyone should care about was a roof over their heads, and their creative pursuits. I still read it on occasion as a sort of spiritual palette cleanser.
Just Kids by Patti Smith
I had my son almost two years ago and it’s given me the pleasure of rediscovering all the children’s books that ignited my imagination. Every night we enter (by Maurice Sendak), where we travel to see the bakers who bake til dawn. It’s a joy to read over and over (which we do, multiple times, before bed), and like in all of Maurice’s illustrations, there’s always small details to catch your eye. People really connect with Where the Wild Things Are which is also beloved in our house, but I’ve always been drawn to the dreaminess of .
In The Night Kitchen by Maurice Sendak
I find the books I connect with the most emotionally and the ones I reread don’t often overlap. But I will always have a soft spot in my heart for Pride and Prejudice, which I often read to fall asleep. I know that doesn’t sound like an endorsement, but it’s like a warm cup of cocoa – comforting and sweet.
Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen
No matter how many unread books wind up next to my bedside table or lingering on 10 per cent completed on the Kindle, I always love coming back to Nancy Mitford’s Love in a Cold Climate. It’s the perfect cocktail of crumbling country piles, eccentric aristocrats and out-of-touch 1930s teens waiting for their lives to begin.
Love In A Cold Climate by Nancy Mitford
I don’t do a lot of rereading these days, but I make an exception for Ben Lerner. I’d actually never gotten around to picking up his kind of strange, layered, fascinating novels until earlier this year, when I dipped into his latest, , and was totally absorbed. Lerner writes about families, generational patterns, technology, language, and writing itself, and absorbing his prose is a bit like beach combing – a first read acquaints you with your environment, and every single time you return to the text, you learn more, delve deeper, uncover patterns you hadn’t noticed before and leave with a far richer understanding of the characters, their world and our own. With , the story of a writer who travels back to college to interview an influential former mentor, I found myself rereading each chapter after I finished it, and then rereading the whole thing (mercifully only 144 pages) at the very end, my jaw on the floor each time. Now, I’ve moved onto 2019’s , a coming-of-age story set in the late ’90s, and am shocked to see that it’s having the exact same effect on me. I keep pausing, turning back the pages, revisiting scenes and connecting the dots until it becomes a vast constellation. It sounds annoying, but it’s pretty exhilarating – in a smooth-brained, low-effort, doom-scrolling world, these are books that bring you back to life. Up next, I’ll be inhaling Lerner’s other two novels, Leaving the Atocha Station and 10:04.
Transcription by Ben Lerner
