Books should be right up there with exercise and diet as

In the words of Matt Haig, “Books should be right up there with exercise and diet as something that don't just entertain us but heal us. They tell us we are not alone and fix the pieces of us that can be shattered by reality. They are teachers, and they are friends, and we should never contemplate a world - or a life - without them.” This is not merely praise for literature—it is a hymn to the soul’s medicine, a recognition that just as the body requires nourishment and movement, the spirit, too, must be fed and strengthened. Within these words lies the ancient understanding that stories are not inventions, but restorations—that through them, humanity remembers who it is, and why it endures.

The ancients, though they lacked our printed pages, understood this power well. The poets of Greece were revered not as entertainers, but as healers of the mind, for their verses carried wisdom and meaning that bound the people together. The myths of gods and heroes were not idle fantasies; they were truths wrapped in imagination, teaching courage to the fearful, humility to the proud, and hope to the broken. So too, Matt Haig reminds us that books heal—they bind our wounds not with bandages, but with understanding. They whisper to us in darkness that others have felt as we do, that our grief, our confusion, our longing—all are part of the great human journey.

Consider the story of Viktor Frankl, a man imprisoned in the death camps of the Second World War. Surrounded by despair and cruelty, he turned to the power of the inner word—the stories and memories that lived within him. In his heart, he wrote a book before it ever reached paper: Man’s Search for Meaning. When at last it was published, it became a torch of healing for millions, teaching that even in suffering, one may find purpose. Here is the living proof of Haig’s truth: that books mend the pieces that reality breaks. They do not change the world outside, but they transform the world within, giving us strength to face what would otherwise destroy us.

In these modern times, when the world moves faster than thought, and screens flicker more than hearts, Haig’s words stand as a call to return to stillness—to sit with a book as one might sit with a wise elder. For books, as he says, are not mere diversions; they are teachers and friends. They carry the voices of the dead, the dreams of the living, and the questions of the unborn. Within their pages, a man may travel centuries and emerge renewed, wiser, calmer. Just as the body decays without nourishment, so too does the spirit fade without the sustenance of story.

When Haig speaks of books being equal to exercise and diet, he restores to reading its sacred place in the care of the self. For exercise strengthens the body, diet nourishes it, but reading enriches the soul—it keeps the inner world alive and resilient. A person who reads daily tends not only to their mind but to their empathy, patience, and wisdom. The ancients might have called this anagke psyche, the necessary care of the spirit. Books, in this sense, are not luxury—they are necessity, as vital to life as breath itself.

Indeed, the history of humanity can be read as the history of its books. When tyrants burned libraries, they sought not only to destroy knowledge, but to erase the memory of freedom. Yet always, the written word rose again, because truth cannot be silenced. From the scrolls of Alexandria to the poems of Rumi, from the psalms of David to the stories of Shakespeare, each generation has found in books the strength to rebuild what was lost. In this, books are not only friends—they are guardians, keeping alive the flame of civilization when all else falls to ash.

So, let this be the teaching drawn from Matt Haig’s words: tend to your soul as you tend to your body. Read as though your peace depends on it—because it does. Choose books that uplift, that challenge, that remind you of your humanity. Let reading be a daily ritual, as sacred as prayer, as nourishing as bread. For within every page lies the power to mend, to teach, to accompany you when the world grows silent.

And remember this: a world without books is a world without mirrors—without reflections of who we are and what we might yet become. Therefore, as the ancients guarded their scrolls and tablets, so must we guard our stories. Read, and you will find yourself again. Read, and you will know that you are never alone. Books heal, and in their healing, they make us whole.