Thursday, August 01, 2013

Books I Read Too Young


There are some books that you really have to read at the right time in life. Take Catcher in the Rye. When I read it at 17, it was genius. I got it. I got Holden. It was good...not as good as The Bell Jar, but good. I tried to read it as a twenty-something and rather than being some sort of tragic hero in search of beauty in a fucked up world, Holden Caulfield was just a whiney-ass teenager who couldn't get his shit together. It just doesn't feel like the same book if you're not going through that particular phase of your life.

Like so many other teenagers, I was assigned to read Catcher in the Rye in high school. It was the perfect time to read that book, but I was assigned quite a few monumental works as well. I despised some of them (Last of the Mohicans, I'm looking at you), but as I get older, I wonder if the opposite is true of some them.  Maybe I was just too young to appreciate what they had to offer. Maybe I needed the depth of experience that only age can bring to really get them, and as I teenager, I certainly didn't have the wherewithal to do so. Because of that, some of them didn't quite make a definite impression. My memories of plots and themes are fuzzy. Despite that, though, here are a few I think I should come back to:

1. Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison.  I remember not quite getting this book. I got some of it; I remember being struck with the idea that race could be so powerful as to render someone invisible to all attention but negative attention. I remember being told that this was an important book. I remember my classmates being as bewildered as I was reading it. But since I left high school, Invisible Man has made appearances throughout my cultural consciousness, at parties, late night book discussions, articles on race, randomly. Recently I heard it described as one of the most powerful books ever written. It may be time to revisit it and see what I can make of it now.

2. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce.  This was another high school reading assignment and one that was as bewildering as Invisible Man on many levels. The moo-cow chapter made a particularly strong impression on my naive teenage brain. "What the hell is this?!!" I thought, as I read. By the end of the novel, I had sort of figured it out (emphasis on the sort of). Now that I understand a little more about James Joyce and stream of consciousness, I wonder if it would be a more interesting read.

3. The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. I decided when I was 11 that I was going to read Classical Literature and I was going to understand it and everyone would be very impressed. I had managed to make my way through Pride and Prejudice and totally understood everything, so I figured I would try some other Great19th Century Literature. Why I chose The Hunchback of Notre Dame, I have no idea (though some awful Disney film may have had something to do with it), but I did. I still, to this day, have no idea what the greater theme of that book was. Maybe something about power and corruption? Physical strength and political strength and poverty and redemption? My guesses now are as feeble as my understanding was then. I may not re-read this one, as my attempts at Les Miserables in my early twenties were similarly befuddled (Victor Hugo is probably difficult at any age...right?), but if I do, I know I'll do better than I did at 11.

4. Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. I still don't really know what's going on in this book. The first time around was in high school (of course) and the narrative structure was confusing (who was narrating? What?) and the language was confusing (what sort of crazy 19th century boat slang is this??) and the plot was confusing (WHAT IS GOING ON?!?!). I got the larger message about wilderness stripping away the veneer of civilization, but the specifics were lost on me. Many years later, a co-worker praised Heart of Darkness to the skies (along with Conrad's other works), so I tried again. Nope, still confusing. I will wait a few more years and try again, but this one may just always be beyond me. The horror! The horror!

5.  The Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien. Those of you who know me well will wonder what the hell its doing on this list, but it belongs here, no doubt. The first time I attempted the defining work of modern fantasy was in high school (though I picked it up myself, rather than have it assigned) and I thought it was slow, boring, and confusing. Why couldn't Tolkien just stick to one name? How was I supposed to keep all the characters straight? And the history behind the plot? Forget about it. Unlike the others on this list, I came back to LOTR later in college and fell in love. It was so engrossing this time around! What had been confusion before was intriguing now! The language! The mythology! The depth of creation! The appendices were a wealth and font of knowledge that had been hitherto unknown! So fascinating!

And maybe, if I gave these others a second chance, now that I'm older and (hopefully) a little wiser, I'll have that same experience.

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