When I was in middle school my Dad gifted me this copy of The Catcher in The Rye and told me I would love it. Because the books cover has sort of a traditional illustration and a name I didn’t get, I figured it was a boring book about a farm and horses and old people and I refused to read it. A few months later we took a long family road trip, spending tons of time I remember having cabin fever and being a total brat. After hearing me complain about being bored far too many times my Dad pulled out the book and said, “Ibrought this book for you, you should give it a shot! you’ll like it I promise, just read a few pages at least and see what you think”. I seceded and gave it a try, quickly totally wrapped up and reading the whole thing in a day or two. It was the first time I really REALLY identified with a book or felt so heard and seen by a writer/character. I remember i spilled coffee on the back of it and was so sad i had ruined this book I loved so much and my dad said “you can tell a book is well loved when it’s covered in coffee stains”. It’s still my favorite item, I keep it next to my bed and i’ve re-read it many times since.