Dealbreaker Books

When I say the word “dealbreaker”, pretty much everyone who might be reading this will know what I mean.  The “deal” in question is a relationship, and a dealbreaker is something, some habit or action or opinion in one’s significant other that is simply not to be borne.  For me, not being considerate would be a dealbreaker.  Not liking dogs—probably a dealbreaker.  Chewing tobacco is an immediate dealbreaker.

This morning, I read an article about literary dealbreakers.  These are books which, in the words of the author, “so deeply resonate with your soul that if a potential partner finds them [laughable], any meeting of minds (or body) is all but impossible.”  Now, this may be pushing it a bit far in the grand scheme of things, and there will be those who find the very idea of this laughable.  But I’m a believer in dealbreaker books.  It makes me wonder which books I would consider dealbreakers.  The ones that spring immediately to mind are as follows:

—The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis.  Classics, and there is so much fodder for discussion and conversation in here, which is good, as I imagine my soulmate will enjoy intellectual discussion as much as I do.

—the Harry Potter series, for the simple reason that if I’m with someone who doesn’t like Harry Potter, clearly someone delivered the wrong man to my front door.

—Anne McCaffrey’s Harper Hall trilogy, particularly the first two, Dragonsong and Dragonsinger,  These were the first books I read by McCaffrey, beginning a life-long kind of adoration.  They combined passion and love of music, a fantastical world with excitement and danger, and themes of breaking off from what holds you back and forging your own path doing what you love. 

—various Shakespeare plays, especially Midsummer Night’s Dream, the Tempest, As You Like It, and Othello.  If I’m with someone who doesn’t like Shakespeare, how can I expect him to take me to see it?  But he should dislike the same ones I dislike, namely All’s Well That End’s Well (which does not end particularly well in my opinion) and Two Gentlemen of Verona.

Most of my choices are classics which almost go without saying, but once I found out my partner’s opinion of them, for better or worse I wouldn’t forget.  Books form an essential core of my life, and anyone who would like to share that life with me would have to share my books as well.  (Not taking care of books would be another dealbreaker, especially if they were my books.)  I don’t mean that the poor man would have to agree with me on everything—that would get dull.  But he would have to respect and understand my opinions, and have his own to offer in return.  After all, isn’t respect and understanding vital in the life of any relationship?