Preamble: T and I have a ritual of gifting books on each others’ birthday. (a few other friends and I also share it but that’s not the point). Last year around my birthday, I was shameless in telling T that I didn’t need a book yet because of the too big unread pile piling at home. I told her that I would let her know when I was ready for a new book. I read someone’s tweet about ‘The 10 thousand doors of January’ and I was intrigued. I did not look up the book. Told T to get that one for me but from an independent bookstore. She said none of the local ones had it. She then tried ordering from that big company named after the South American rainforest. That order never reached me. She then tried one more time through another bookseller and this time things worked and I received the book, earlier this month. The moral of the story is find your book-tribe and make them go through all this trouble, because adventure.

“To love is good, too: love being difficult. For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation.” – Rainer Maria Rilke

The 10 thousand doors of January has a line ‘I happen to believe every story is a love story if you catch it at the right moment..’ That line reminded me of the above Rilke quote. No connection. But as January, Ade, and Yule Ian’s story unfolded, it made more and more sense why my brain wanted to connect these two disparate (in a way) thoughts. It is indeed a story about love. Between a boy and a girl. Between a girl and her parents. Between a dog and a girl. Between a girl and another girl. Between those who left and those who stayed. Between connections spanned across worlds. A story of love for words, adventure, courage, our inherent timidity and faults.

There is no real fantasy world building or magic at work here. There are portals or doors and people come and go through them. There is a book within a book here. There are lots of metaphors in mundane things and incidents. And despite that, this story held me till the end. I love it when writer’s who sermonize about ‘words having power’ manage to achieve much more with their words. January has a lot of tags that could make one pity her. But not once does the writer use her words in any such way. She always paints her as a girl with issues who might or might not figure it out. And despite her choices, it would be ok. Because that’s how lives take shape, no? And when January does make a decision, it’s gratifying to see her embrace her power without succumbing to the tropes of this genre or making any unnecessary harsh sacrifices. She is never painted as a damsel. In her weakest and strongest moments, she is just that, a girl, unfurling her story.

“Destiny is a pretty story we tell ourselves. Lurking beneath it there are only people, and the terrible choices we make.”

This book gave me such a good glimpse of the author’s brain that I want to read more of her work. Maybe even become friends with her. I haven’t felt this comfortable while getting sucked into someone else’s story. I am a big believer in stories/books finding one when you most need them. With the relentless pandemic raging outside, I am grateful that such stories still give me the refuge and escape I need.

“How fitting, that the most terrifying time in my life should require me to do what I do best: escape into a book.”

I am going to cherish and remember January’s story for a long time. There are doors all around us. Maybe all of us are doors. And a door never closes for good. One can always re-open them when one is ready.

3