Truth, at rest.

Surprise! We are talking about books again! Wait till my other obsessions in life start taking over my blog posts. Anyway, as summer is making it's rather slow approach, I will have time to be reading philosophies and you will not have to hear anything about books from me for a long while, hence.

This though, isn't so much about books, as it is about their matter, to be honest.When picking books to read, I don't quite care much about the genre any book falls under. It's the content that always matters. The reason I read so many historical fictions is because I love History. I've read History books enough to know what they do and don't tell. Also, to know how much credence can be given to a story the writer presents.

These fictions, they tell the stories of people. Those people that weren't much represented in the golden pages of history because they weren't deemed of import. They may not have lead revolutions, won kingdoms, raised battles, lead rebellions or governed a country. They may not have won glory in war, but these are the people who did win their graves. They may have been mere aids to the plans of great men who history does remember, but these common folk were the reason for it all. They may not be heroes of legends but heroes would have neither a purpose nor a legend to survive without them. They deserve their say in how we view the past as much as any man deemed noble.

I have always found the truth in poetry. That is why it comes so easily to me. Which is also, why the school education always did bother me. It had represented facts in manner non disputable, That never did sit well with me. How many men died in a war, how long it was, what the reason and conclusions were and how they lead us to the present - all fine facts that ought to be noted. But they carry no truth.

Truth lays in the unspoken words and the songs bards sing. The truth lies with the families uprooted, livelihoods disputed, the lives disrupted and the morals corrupted. Truth, bled with the torn hearts that were impaled and healed with the strong hearts with sturdy breaths. These fiction, I do so love to read, speak of the truth that lies in graves as rust beneath the medals of decorated chests.