- The Sun Also Rises, Hemingway. This was one of the first books assigned during my Lost Generation course in college. I'm not sure if the book so much as the class opened up my eyes to the expatriates and their carpe diem world view, but the book actually turned out to be the first vehicle for my feminist leanings. I'll never forget the gender-neutral namesake of Brett Ashley, or her subtle, masculine mannerisms and actions. The book also introduced me to Hemingway's more radical writing style -- using dialogue more often than narrative to tell a story. It was cool to see his style adopted by the more modern writers I'd been used to reading. There is even a third influence in this book for me. It brought history much closer for me. I felt like I could have been there myself while I read this book, in the salons on the Left Bank, having tea with Sylvia Beach and Gertrude Stein. And with the war in Iraq being reported on more and more at the time, the sentiment of Hemingway's novel definitely transcended the decades, still making relevant points after all that time.
- The Vagina Monlogues, Ensler. This play showed me womanhood. Period. I'd never fully understood the beauty of women, the power of women, the multifaceted-ness of women, until I saw this performed, and then read it shortly afterward. I can't even describe the cultural importance this play has for me. It's so empowering, and changed my view to help me believe in myself even more.
- The Lost, Mendelsohn. This book showed me a much darker side of history, and of human nature. It also showed me the perseverance we are capable of as human beings, and taught me to appreciate the present. It taught me that there is no such thing as no legacy.
- The Bible. It's corny, it's overdone, it's cliche, but how could I not? I grew up in a Catholic household, I went to church every Sunday until I was seventeen (by choice or by force), and the only non-Catholic school I've ever attended was my kindergarten. This book has had an enormous impact on me, whether or not I was resisting it at any point in my life. As a child, I viewed it as a place for answers...sometimes even magical ones, if I played the game correctly. (Did you ever do that, where you ask a burning question to God, flip open the Bible, and whatever verse your eyes land on, that's your answer?) These stories pervaded my education every single year of my life. I've drawn on them for symbolism in my own writing, I've rejected them as the absolute truth, I've accepted most as myth, I've relied upon them for morals, I've debated their immorality, I've let them act as a comfort, I've kept their more uncomfortable teachings at bay, I've proclaimed the work unfinished, and I've even found through them a pathway to education and even feminism. How. Could. I. Not.
- Blonde, Oates. My obsession with Marilyn Monroe began with this book. How could I understand what I do about pop culture without learning a thing or two about this icon? Although this book is a novel, I eventually learned from Marilyn (and Oates, who writes beautifully) the value of art, compassion, gentility, and identity in places even like the silver screen. So much changed after Marilyn. Maybe even because of her. She's certainly made an impression on me.
- Dead Man Walking, Prejan; Forgiving the Dead Man Walking, Morris. I'm combining these two books because they both taught me to love social justice, even though Prejan's book wasn't what I was expecting (lots of legal jargon), and Morris' account seemed to go on a bit too long. However, both addressed the U.S. court system and its flaws, and made me a more firm proponent of civil and human rights. It was hard to think of a failing system up until I'd read these books.
- The Sense of Structure, Gopen. Where do I begin with this masterpiece? Almost a textbook, this guide to language and writing is my literary bible. After reading it, I had gained such a focused perspective on my own writing style. It taught me how I could better hone my craft to make my readers understand the feelings behind my words. There is so much good stuff in this book. Who could have fathomed writing from the reader's perspective?
- A Light in the Attic, Silverstein. This book introduced me to poetry, and kept the lighthearted side of me alive while I was growing up. It showed me that poetry is not always dark and sinister and depressing, like it was rumored to be around my classrooms. Poetry shaped a lot of who I am as a person, symbolic poetry especially. I think it was good for me to keep the rhythm to my life, and to find it in my subject matter.
- The Bhagavad Gita. Another religious text that expanded my cultural view. I loved how it connected to so many things I'd already been taught, and made me feel so close to the rest of humankind. In studying the Gita, I ended up studying so many other wonderful philosophers. It truly expanded my reach into so many other areas.
- The Outsiders, Hinton. Classic themes of the search for identity, gallantry, and social divisiveness. It's got it all. "Nothing gold can stay."
Showing posts with label Life Lessons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life Lessons. Show all posts
Influential
not undecided recently shared a list of the top ten books that have influenced her view of the world. I thought I'd try my own hand at the exercise, although I tend to read more for pleasure than anything else. I hope you'll try it, too. Consequently, if you're looking for more intellectual answers, not undecided's post has many many links that will take you to some indirect recommendations. This one was really hard for me, because I first had to ask myself: What is my view of the world? Of course I still don't have a concrete answer. I apologize, my answers start to get a little lax towards the end. I'm pretty sleepy. But here they are, in a possibly particular order:
EmbarrASSed
I was watching an episode of Sex & the City today -- "Cover Girl." The girls are in a bookstore, helping Carrie research ideas for her new book cover while they browse for their own purchases. Charlotte is looking for a copy of Starting Over Yet Again, while Miranda searches for a book with a title like "How to Lose That Baby Fat While Sitting on Your Ass." Miranda settles on From Fat to Fit, but then decides against buying it when the sales clerk advises her to start Weight Watchers instead. Charlotte, nervous about being seen in the Self-Help section, decides to order her book online.
The episode got me thinking: we've all read something to make us feel uncomfortable. What books have I been embarrassed about reading in public? And why?
In college, my roommate and I took an LGBT-awareness class. Our first assignment was to buy Brian McNaught's Now That I'm Out, What Do I Do? somewhere other than the campus bookstore. The purpose was to put us in a place outside of our comfort zone, so we could understand what the LGBT community, their parents, and their friends go through when they go to buy the same books. My roommate shared with me that she did in fact feel a little embarrassed walking around the bookstore with it. She felt like she was being looked at differently. I remember being proud of myself for getting through the assignment with little to no feelings of shame. Now that I look back, I know I should have tried harder to put myself in others' shoes.
For me, the most recent book I can think of makes me ashamed to even bring up the story. Not because of the book itself, but because of the very fact that I was embarrassed to be seen with it. I am embarrassed for my embarrassment. Woman of Valor: Margaret Sanger and the Birth Control Movement in America, by Ellen Chesler, should not have caused these feelings to bubble up in me. I usually have no problem admitting to anyone, even strangers, that I consider myself a feminist. Yet there I was, keeping the book huddled against my chest every morning as I made the walk from the parking garage to my workplace.
It's amazing how once you're out of the safety of a college campus, all your ideals have to become...private. Inoffensive. The issue with me this time had to do with exactly that -- offensiveness. It was the abortion topic...or at least, that's how I was perceiving people perceiving me.
Honestly, my thinking was in line with Margaret's. I believe women should have a choice when it comes to their bodies, which is why I was so excited to find this book on the shelf. I was enthralled with Margaret Sanger and her story when I learned about her in my Philosophy of Women class. Her movement spoke to me. Her struggle to make birth control accessible and normalized for all women was something I could really look up to. Reading her biography, which promised to be just as accessible, would be like icing on the cake.
But reading the book about Margaret soon became my own struggle. The book was not as "readable" as the cover proclaimed. But not only that, I was finding out a lot about Ms. Sanger that was spoiling my idea of her. Who knew that role models could be human?
Anyway, it wasn't so much Margaret's personality that made me duck the book under my armpit as I walked the streets of Cleveland. I may be a feminist, but I know Margaret Sanger is an obscure enough name that no one would be offended by that alone. No, it was the rest of the title that I was hiding: The Birth Control Movement in America.
But why? Why did I care? I still can't explain it. Maybe it was the stereotypes. Maybe it was my own self-righteous opinion of myself. I did not want people to see me as a baby killer. Because I know that's not what pro-choice means. But the simple people on the street, they didn't. I am such an ass! I can't believe myself.
I stopped reading Woman of Valor. Not because of the embarrassment. It truly was just too hard to get through. The writing was too elevated. But the shame I feel now when realizing how embarrassed I was for reading that book is still going on.
I sort of meant to make this post more light-hearted. You know, talk about the trashy romance novels I also take care to hide in my purse when making the commute to the office. Or the fantasy fiction novels I enjoy with the dragons on the cover. But I think it was more important to make this other, more serious point to myself.
They say that if you assume something, you make an ass out of you and me. I found that it's true...and to be embarrassed about my reading choices just makes an ass out of, em, me.
The episode got me thinking: we've all read something to make us feel uncomfortable. What books have I been embarrassed about reading in public? And why?
In college, my roommate and I took an LGBT-awareness class. Our first assignment was to buy Brian McNaught's Now That I'm Out, What Do I Do? somewhere other than the campus bookstore. The purpose was to put us in a place outside of our comfort zone, so we could understand what the LGBT community, their parents, and their friends go through when they go to buy the same books. My roommate shared with me that she did in fact feel a little embarrassed walking around the bookstore with it. She felt like she was being looked at differently. I remember being proud of myself for getting through the assignment with little to no feelings of shame. Now that I look back, I know I should have tried harder to put myself in others' shoes.
For me, the most recent book I can think of makes me ashamed to even bring up the story. Not because of the book itself, but because of the very fact that I was embarrassed to be seen with it. I am embarrassed for my embarrassment. Woman of Valor: Margaret Sanger and the Birth Control Movement in America, by Ellen Chesler, should not have caused these feelings to bubble up in me. I usually have no problem admitting to anyone, even strangers, that I consider myself a feminist. Yet there I was, keeping the book huddled against my chest every morning as I made the walk from the parking garage to my workplace.
It's amazing how once you're out of the safety of a college campus, all your ideals have to become...private. Inoffensive. The issue with me this time had to do with exactly that -- offensiveness. It was the abortion topic...or at least, that's how I was perceiving people perceiving me.
Honestly, my thinking was in line with Margaret's. I believe women should have a choice when it comes to their bodies, which is why I was so excited to find this book on the shelf. I was enthralled with Margaret Sanger and her story when I learned about her in my Philosophy of Women class. Her movement spoke to me. Her struggle to make birth control accessible and normalized for all women was something I could really look up to. Reading her biography, which promised to be just as accessible, would be like icing on the cake.
But reading the book about Margaret soon became my own struggle. The book was not as "readable" as the cover proclaimed. But not only that, I was finding out a lot about Ms. Sanger that was spoiling my idea of her. Who knew that role models could be human?
Anyway, it wasn't so much Margaret's personality that made me duck the book under my armpit as I walked the streets of Cleveland. I may be a feminist, but I know Margaret Sanger is an obscure enough name that no one would be offended by that alone. No, it was the rest of the title that I was hiding: The Birth Control Movement in America.
But why? Why did I care? I still can't explain it. Maybe it was the stereotypes. Maybe it was my own self-righteous opinion of myself. I did not want people to see me as a baby killer. Because I know that's not what pro-choice means. But the simple people on the street, they didn't. I am such an ass! I can't believe myself.
I stopped reading Woman of Valor. Not because of the embarrassment. It truly was just too hard to get through. The writing was too elevated. But the shame I feel now when realizing how embarrassed I was for reading that book is still going on.
I sort of meant to make this post more light-hearted. You know, talk about the trashy romance novels I also take care to hide in my purse when making the commute to the office. Or the fantasy fiction novels I enjoy with the dragons on the cover. But I think it was more important to make this other, more serious point to myself.
They say that if you assume something, you make an ass out of you and me. I found that it's true...and to be embarrassed about my reading choices just makes an ass out of, em, me.
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