If My Favorite Author Texted Me

If My Favorite Author Texted Me

By Hasnain Shah

It started as a joke. I was halfway through The Midnight Library by Matt Haig when I thought, What if I could just text him right now? What if I could ask him why this sentence feels like it was written for me?

Of course, I don’t actually have Matt Haig’s number. But my brain, desperate to unpack the book’s mix of philosophy, regret, and hope, invented the conversation anyway. What follows is less a review and more a transcript of a text thread between me and the author who somehow crawled inside my head and arranged my thoughts into paragraphs.

Me: Hey, Matt. Quick question. Why do you insist on holding up a mirror I didn’t ask to see?

Matt Haig: Mirrors are useful. Even cracked ones show us something.

Me: I wasn’t prepared for that kind of wisdom in a first text reply.

Matt Haig: You picked up the book. That means, somewhere, you were ready.

That’s how my review begins—because reading The Midnight Library feels like that: a personal exchange. Each page answers questions I didn’t know I had. It’s as though the story, which follows Nora Seed as she explores the infinite lives she could have lived, was built for readers to fill in the blanks with their own regrets.

When Nora enters the magical library between life and death, each book represents a different version of her life. One where she became a rock star. One where she saved a friend’s life. One where she pursued her Olympic swimming dreams. The point isn’t whether those lives are “better” or “worse,” but whether the act of imagining them helps her value the life she still has.

Me: So you’re telling me, in some alternate universe, I’m already writing you this review for The New Yorker?

Matt Haig: Probably. But in another one, you never picked up the book at all. Which universe do you prefer?

Me: The one where I get to text you like this.

It’s hard to call The Midnight Library just a novel. For me, it read more like a philosophy course I didn’t realize I’d signed up for. Except instead of Kant or Nietzsche, it came wrapped in conversations about regrets, choices, and that terrifying phrase: “the meaning of life.”

Nora’s journey is painfully relatable. Who hasn’t looked back and thought, If only I had done this one thing differently? The brilliance of the book is that it doesn’t glorify alternate lives. Each new path she tries carries its own burden. The message is clear: you can’t regret-proof your existence. You can only learn to live it.

Me: Be honest, did you write this book to personally attack me?

Matt Haig: I wrote it to remind people like you that living is an act of courage. If that feels like an attack, maybe you needed it.

Me: Okay, that was both kind and brutal. Thanks.

What I appreciated most is how Haig weaves big, existential ideas into simple, almost text-message-sized sentences. You don’t need to be a philosopher to understand him. You just need to have lived long enough to accumulate a few regrets—which, let’s be honest, is everyone.

Reading the book, I felt like I was having a late-night chat with someone who’d been where I was: tired, overwhelmed, and wondering if I was doing life “wrong.” Every alternate life Nora explores felt like a ghost version of my own abandoned dreams—jobs I didn’t take, relationships I let go, cities I never moved to.

But as Nora learns, and as my imaginary text buddy kept reminding me, those lives aren’t the point. The point is that the one we’re living is still worth showing up for.

Me: So what you’re saying is… it’s okay to stop obsessing over the “what ifs”?

Matt Haig: Exactly. You only need one reason to stay. One small thing that matters. That’s enough.

Me: Damn. Fine. I’ll finish the book before I spiral again.

By the time I turned the last page, it didn’t feel like I’d just read a novel. It felt like I’d been on the receiving end of a conversation that mattered.

If I could actually text Matt Haig, I’d just send one last message:

Me: Thanks for reminding me I still have pages left in my own book.

And I’d hope for this reply:

Matt Haig: Then keep writing them.