Books that Shaped Me // Round One

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I don’t reread books often enough. Out of the 118 books I read last year, only 48 were rereads. Now, before you start squinting at me like I’m crazy (which I am) or really bad at math (which I also am), let me just say that I realize 48, in comparison with 70, is not a pathetically small number. But it’s not a large enough number for me either. I love rereading books. In fact, I love rereading books even more than I love reading them the first time around. Each time I reread a story (unless it’s poorly written and not worth a second glance), it gains more meaning and more emotional significance because, for me at least, stories are like scrapbooks for thoughts. Scrapbooks aren’t worth much if you don’t revisit them from time to time and pore over the pages to reacquaint yourself with all the memories you’ve preserved there. 

So I have decided to go back and reread all the books that helped form me—the ones that shaped my childhood self, opened my mind, and taught me to love imagination. I think it’s valuable for me to come full circle. 

As I take this nostalgia tour of my life, I want to share at least a part of it with you. Which means, over the next few months or so, I’ll post more about other books that shaped me, and I’ll review some of them here. I will also try to review the rest of them on Goodreads  because I’ve made an impromptu resolution to post more reviews there. (My Goodreads account has been sadly neglected.) But, as I do this, I don’t want to take credit for the idea of a nostalgia tour. A while ago, Victoria at Stori Tori’s Blog wrote a lovely post on her top ten most influential books (which you should check out). And even further back, Veronica Roth did her own nostalgia tour which struck me as a brilliant idea (before you ask, yes, I love her blog, and I’ve probably read the whole thing five times). 

All that being said, I’ve set my Goodreads 2016 reading goal to 175 books. If I can do more, that’s wonderful, but I want to read at least 175. And, more importantly, I want at least 88 of those books to be rereads. I could talk forever about the value of rereading, but I plan to do a post on that subject soon, so right now I’ll just share with you seven of the books that impacted my younger self. Who knows, maybe some of these were important to you as well. 

A WRINKLE IN TIME

Before I read the book, I watched the movie several times and fell in love with the feel of it. In fact, the only reason my younger self even touched the book (the edition my mom owns has a seriously ugly cover) was because I loved the movie so much. Although the movie and the book are different in terms of smaller plot points (as far as I remember—it was a long time ago), I still recall them both sharing the same tone—the same deep, inexplicable sense of unease. The best way I can describe the atmosphere is as a darker, more concentrated form of that spine-tingling coziness I feel when the rain is falling hard outside and the wind is shrieking around the corners of the house. (Here’s a link to Veronica’s lovely, but spoilery, review.)

THE GIVER

This was another book that felt heavy with a deep sense of unease (although it’s a different sort of unease). It was the book that taught me not to take people and society at face value—it taught me to distrust the appearance of beauty and peace and perfection until I’ve seen beneath the surface. I don’t remember much of the actual events, beyond the major plot points, but I do remember Jonas’ conversation with his parents about love and how they only understand love through selfish terms. (Veronica discusses this same conversation in her review, so you should totally check that out.) In this story world, true love has become a foreign concept, which is terrifying to put it mildly. More than that, the sterility of the environment branded itself on my mind—the way these people are basically cattle, and the way they celebrate their bondage. In other words, this book is one of my top priority rereads. 

THE HOST

I reread and reviewed this one last year, so my memory is a lot fresher on the details (I still plan to read it again this year). It’s one of the few books that has kept me up past my self-appointed bed time. It is also one of the very few books that can lay claim to making me cry. The aspect of this story that grabbed me the most is the way it handles the question of what it means to be human (and the way villains can be genuinely nice and considerate but still do awful things). 

THE TALE OF DESPEREAUX

This book is one of my most beloved childhood stories. On some deep level, I felt that I really connected with Chiaroscuro and the way he has an ugly heart because it’s been broken and he’s had to stitch it back together (metaphorically speaking, of course). As a young thing, I also wanted to be like Despereaux—someone brave enough to break the mold and do noble, courageous things in the face of a society built on fear. 

WATERSHIP DOWN

I reviewed this one just recently, so I may or may not reread it this year. We’ll see. But this list would be missing an important element if I didn’t include it. After all, Hazel taught me a lot about good leadership skills. 

Z FOR ZACHARIAH

Growing up, I often fantasized about what it would be like if everyone else on earth were to disappear suddenly and leave the world to me, myself, and I. Aside from the danger of wild animals (if those were still around), this thought was very appealing to me, and it was especially fun to imagine ways to stay alive. (My plans involved eating all the perishables in the abandoned grocery stores and gas stations first, and then rationing the other stuff, like flour and canned goods. For shelter, I figured a grocery store would make the best living arrangement because I could build walls of cans and have plenty of room to store all the food I’d scavenged in my travels.) Z FOR ZACHARIAH was a way for me to appease that desire for solitude in a harmless way—to experience what it feels like to think you’re the last remaining person on earth. So many fond memories. 

I’m also very upset about the movie version that just came out because, from what I’ve seen in the synopsis, they kept approximately two of the major plot points, chucked everything else, introduced a new character and a love triangle, changed Ann’s relationship with Mr. Loomis, altered the ENTIRE point of the story, and just generally did their level best to ruin it. Like, I can’t even tell you how upset I am. As much as I would love to see one of my all-time favorite books played out on the big screen, I think it will be better for my blood pressure if I just skip this one and wait until someone honors the actual story. Although, come to think of it, it might be satisfying to watch the movie just so I can rant more effectively about it. *sulks*

LIFE AS WE KNEW IT

You can read my review for this one here. LIFE AS WE KNEW IT appealed to me in the same way that Z FOR ZACHARIAH did. It has the same sort of idea—a worldwide catastrophe has culled the population (though potentially not as much, in this case), and survival is now a higher priority than entertainment and culture. (I have only read one of the sequels, and I only own LIFE AS WE KNEW IT, so I want to get my hands on the rest of the series this year, if I can.) This story also has somewhat symbolic significance to me in that I read it during my biggest library binge phase. At that time, I didn’t own all that many books, and I hadn’t read all that many either. Sure, I had had my school library before that, but this time I felt freer and wilder, like the world was opening up before me. I think that’s really when my love of reading turned from a little candle to an unfortunate but beautiful house fire. (Saying this, I realize I should probably, at some point, write a post explaining why I’m no longer quite so enamored of libraries.) 

Well, that’s it for today, little coffee beans. What are some of the books that shaped you? What are some of your all-time favorites? What are some books you plan to reread this year? If you’ve watched Z FOR ZACHARIAH, what is your opinion of it?

Book Review: WATERSHIP DOWN by Richard Adams

Warning: As always, I try to stay relatively spoiler free. But it doesn’t hurt to proceed with caution.

Rating:  Five Stars—ajklsdflk (when words fail to describe how wonderful a book is)

 

Well, it’s certainly been a while since I last wrote a book review, and it feels like way longer because—in my mind at least—NaNoWriMo lasted about a century or two. But anyway, I’m back to reviews, and today I’m going to cover one of my many all-time favorites—the book that kept JAWS from claiming the much-coveted #1 slot on the New York Times Bestseller List: WATERSHIP DOWN by Richard Adams.

I’ve talked a bit about this book before, but I’ve been wanting to discuss it in more detail. So here we go.

The Main Rabbits. Okay, a lot of fiction I’ve read starring animals as main characters turns out a bit goofy (with the exception of books like CHARLOTTE’S WEB). While the stories are cute and the critters are charming, they’re not real and you know it. With WATERSHIP DOWN, we enter a much different playing field. Here we have rabbits who feel like rabbits, who act like rabbits, who communicate like rabbits. In fact, most of what I learned about rabbits and their behavioral patterns as a child came from this book.

Instead of giving us furry human-like creatures wearing clothes and going on quests, Richard Adams gives us creatures who follow the rules of nature, who fail to understand the human world, and who might even make you wonder what is going on in the minds of all the rabbits ever (or, maybe that’s just me). Sure, these rabbits are super clever, but they don’t rely on human-based smarts. And they always, always process information the way a rabbit would, rather than the way a human would. (For instance, to them, a train is a giant, fiery messenger from their god.)

Above all, they show themselves to be resourceful, daring, mischievous, and more. They have their own rabbit culture with folklore and legend detailing the harrowing exploits of their original rabbit ancestor. In general, they’re just the best rabbits ever, and they’re the type to be taken seriously, not the type to be cuddled.

The Symbolism. Maybe it’s just me, but I’m pretty sure this book is somewhat of a metaphor for the human existence. As humans, there are many things that we understand about our world, and many things that we don’t. Similarly, the rabbits understand all the details on their level, yet the world is so much bigger and stranger and harder to comprehend than they could ever dream. Like us, they are trying to survive, trying to find a place where they will be safe and well-fed, trying to build good lives for themselves. Along the way, they run into corrupt governments and individuals who are willing to survive at the expense of others. They encounter the caste system, corruption, and lies.

While, like I said, these rabbits are in no way humanized, their struggles resonate with us because they share the same basis, and though they aren’t meant to be us, I think in some way they’re meant to represent us. They are a small part in a bigger world, and we are a small part in a bigger universe. In being their little rabbit selves, they clarify what it means to be human.

Hazel. True, Hazel may not initially seem the most obvious choice for chief rabbit, but despite what he considers to be his lack of qualifications, he does what is necessary to keep his band of followers together and safe. Through it all, he remains humble and gentle, never demanding power and never treating his fellows as though they are less important than him. Instead, he recognizes each individual’s unique value, he helps his friends work together as efficiently and effectively as possible, and he never forgets what the others have done to help him out along the way.

Fiver. Here is where Richard Adams strays a little from established zoological facts by making Fiver something of a psychic or a mystic. But while Fiver’s visions are scientifically improbable, they do make for good storytelling, and the inclusion of rabbits who can glimpse the future and sense hidden sinister motives helps make the book what it is—beautiful and sad and dark and wonderful. Also, Fiver is just plain adorable.

On top of that, Fiver balances out Hazel remarkably well. While it’s true that Hazel is a talented leader, if it weren’t for Fiver, there would be no group of rabbits to begin with. Ultimately, Hazel would not be nearly as effective without Fiver at his side, helping him out, and Hazel makes his biggest mistakes when he ignores Fiver’s advice.

Bigwig (Thlayli). Bigwig is a former member of the Owsla, which is essentially the rabbit form of military/police. (Come to think of it, I’m not actually sure if that’s a thing in real life rabbit warrens, but oh well, it’s cool so we’re just going to go with it.) Hot-tempered and powerful, he is a force to be reckoned with, and yet, once Hazel earns his loyalty, there is nothing Bigwig wouldn’t do for the physically-unimpressive rabbit he has chosen to follow. Despite his occasional surliness and poor judgment, he remains an invaluable member of the team.

All in all, WATERSHIP DOWN is one of the most atmospheric and captivating books I’ve ever encountered. I’ve read it about nine thousand and twenty-three times (numbers not accurate), but it never gets old—it’s still just as suspenseful, just as powerful, and just as incredible as it was the first time I entered the story. And if I had the money, I would buy copies for everyone ever because it would totally be worth it.

Have you read WATERSHIP DOWN, my little coffee beans? If not, what are you still doing here, not reading it? If you have, what do you think about it? Which character is your favorite? Have you read anything else by Richard Adams? Do you think Owl City’s reference to “the crow and the bean field” is a tip of the hat to this book?