My Thoughts

This site began with a simple idea: books still matter. Not just to academics or bookworms, but to anyone navigating life, relationships, and the complexity of being human. Books help us resolve conflict, build empathy, and understand people and perspectives different from our own. That kind of understanding, I believe, is the foundation for a more compassionate world.

Invisible Amigo is a casual archive of great stories and the lessons I’ve drawn from them. It’s not academic criticism—it’s personal reflection. Each post is short, approachable, and written for readers at all levels, from seasoned bibliophiles to those just dipping their toes into literature.

If this site encourages someone to visit a local bookstore, grab a drink, and get lost in a story, then it’s done what it set out to do.

I never set out to be a book reviewer. There are plenty of those already—some insightful, others less so—and I’ve never been drawn to ranking or critiquing authors. That’s not what this space is about.

Instead, I read fiction and nonfiction as sources of insight into purpose, identity, and the human condition. Every book offers something. Sometimes, it’s a small, passing moment that lingers. Other times, it’s a profound truth I’m still unpacking. This site is where I record what resonated with me.

I built this as a kind of literary safe zone—for readers and writers alike. There are no takedowns here. No harsh reviews or sharp-edged judgments. Just one reader’s reflections on what felt meaningful, memorable, or moving.

In a culture that often prizes critique over curiosity, I wanted to do something different. This space is rooted in gratitude for what books offer and in the belief that every story holds value—even if the lesson is quiet, subtle, or unfinished.

My journey with literature—from the classroom to the courtroom—has been profound. As a former high school English teacher, a criminal defense attorney, and a lifelong lover of stories, I could give you a dozen reasons why reading matters. But for me, it always comes back to one:

Books have taught me empathy.

Empathy isn’t about agreeing with everyone. It’s about trying to understand people, especially those who see the world differently, with compassion and curiosity. That kind of understanding doesn’t just make us better readers; it makes us better citizens, educators, friends, and neighbors.

Much of the world’s conflict stems from our failure to see each other clearly. We’re quick to label those who disagree with us as opponents rather than asking why they think or feel the way they do. Literature pushes against that rigidity. It slows us down. It asks us to listen.

When I taught The Great Gatsby, one line always stood out. The narrator recalls advice from his father:

“Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone… Just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”

That sentence carries so much weight. It’s empathy in its most distilled form.

Reading has allowed me to experience lives I’ll never live, to encounter voices I might never hear otherwise, and to ask questions I might never think to pose. It’s helped me understand people who are radically different from me and helped me better understand myself.

That’s why literature matters. That’s why books matter. They don’t just educate us, they expand us. And that, to me, is one of the most inspiring and essential parts of this work.