Nostalgia. I read Lord of the Rings in high school, in the venerable Ballantine paperback edition. It was little enough known that I was actually able to recommend it to friends who’d never heard of it. I remember feeling, as I finished the third volume, that I never wanted the story to end.
I often think of the un-recoverability of one’s first experience of a well-loved ritual or work of art. I love the Divine Liturgy, but the astonishment and joy I felt at my first visit to an Orthodox church are unique. (Different astonishments and different joys keep coming, though.)
In smaller ways, I can enjoy watching, say, The Matrix, but the the plot revelations will never again be completely new.
Happily, any work of art that’s worth re-visiting always offers new pleasures and insights, but the “first love” moment is gone forever.
