Mirrors are pieces of literature that we open and immediately see ourselves in. The character’s situations reflect our own and we relate to their stories, finding a little more of ourselves with each turn of the page. Personally, I have never read a book and considered it a mirror. Being an Indian third culture-kid, my stories tend to differ greatly from the typical American-born and raised adolescent stories I tend to end up reading.
Windows are stories that we can do nothing but look at from a different reality. They transport us into worlds that are not our own, whether real or fantasy. Every piece of literature I tend to like are windows. They haul me from the traps of my own life and put me into one where I don’t need to do anything but observe. Windows convey emotion unlike any other story. Even when you have nothing to do with the story, you find yourself feeling every moment of happiness, fear, anger, and sadness, immersed so deeply its hard to pull out.
Sliding doors are stories that are not our own, but we can immerse ourselves in. Children use sliding doors to dream of an older, reckless life. Teenagers go through sliding doors trying to find some stability and hope. Adults read sliding doors for wisdom and peace, and seniors for death. I think sliding doors are used as lenses for hope. We turn to them dreaming of something that will be, something we can barely wait for – perhaps a better future, or a new relationship. I read stories about love and adventure. It’s not something I can experience fully right now; I can’t get married, I can’t have my own house, and I don’t have the freedom to drive around at midnight whenever I feel like it. So for now, I use sliding doors to dream of a future that could be mine.