I get a feeling that I’m not supposed to like Jonathan Livingston Seagull (by Richard Bach), but while I certainly admit that it’s cheesy and its mysticism can be kind-of bizarre, I’ve determined that I’m unlikely to ever lose my soft spot for this book. So much of Bach reads like a New Age mystical version of Nicholas Sparks (minus the insistence on having someone in each book die horribly), but even now I still occasionally get the desire to dip into him a little bit again.
I wrote a couple of years back about my experience with Richard Bach, and that’s generally how I still feel about him today. But that one quote from Jonathan — “You will be ready to begin to fly up and know the meaning of kindness and of love” — still speaks to me.
