A lot of books sit on my nightstand for a year or more. Some of them are books I know I should read but just can’t get the motivation to read. Donald Miller’s A Million Miles in a Thousand Years falls into that category. I’m not sure why I waited so long to read this book. Could be that I just wasn’t that impressed with some of his other books (sorry, Don).

Or could be that I just find it hard to relate to the guy. He’s a 30-something single guy who lives in Portland and (at least in his books) seems to whine a lot. We don’t have much in common.

But we do, actually. We have a dozen or more common friends, two of whom are featured in this book (and one of those, Bob Goff, I’ve known since first grade). One of Miller’s old roommates is a friend of mine. You’d think that I could find some way to relate to the guy.

Anyway, the book waited for me to delve into for a long time. When I first began I was having a hard time getting into it. It’s hard to explain why because Miller is a good writer, has a quick wit, and can turn a simple situation into something truly interesting. But I still struggled to engage with the book.

Around half way through the book it clicked for me. And I really began to enjoy it. Love it, in fact. Miller explores the idea of life as story, weaving his own life into the process of writing a screenplay for one of his books. Brilliant idea, good storyline, and truly fun.

Maybe my hesitation to pick up the book is that Miller wears his angst on his sleeve. I don’t know if that’s how he is in real life (few authors I’ve met are much like you’d think from their books, so I have my doubts). In his books, he bares his soul (or seems to, anyway). And a lot of his worries, angst, cynicism, lack of confidence, frustration, self-deprecating comments, etc., has a way of portraying himself as a real dork. You love him for his transparency but can’t stand him for what you see.

But then you hear a few of his insights and your perspective changes. You realize he’s not a dork. He’s brilliant, in a goofy kind of way. You begin to see not only his weaknesses, but the strength in those weaknesses.

I really love how he concludes the book. Early in the last chapter is the statement, “I get paid to pretend that I know what life is about.” Thank God that a writer finally admits as much. That statement alone made me glad to have read the book. You should too.