My friend ke first introduced me to the idea that literature makes us feel less freakish alone according to, like, somebody famous (cite, ke?).* I agree with this, though usually it tends towards large, meaningful insights. But, maybe also trivial things. Like, finding my peculiar gastronomic aversions repeated in a novel. I know, I know, nobody normal hates celery and onions. It's crazy talk. OR IS IT? Check this passage from Remembrance of Things I Forgot (not a great read, but moderately entertaining):
I definitely feel a little less freakish and alone now and will the next time I try to explain to someone that, no, celery doesn't just taste like nothing.
*Also, this is exactly what my friendship with ke does, too. Makes me feel less freakish and alone because there's somebody so simpatico in the world.