Books, Books, Books

On the county library site today, they mentioned that September 29 through October 6 is “Banned Books Week,” citing, “First observed in 1982, Banned Books Week reminds Americans not to take this democratic freedom for granted, and is endorsed by the Library of Congress Center for the Book. Citizens are encouraged to check out and read some of the books that have been challenged, censored and/or banned over the years. A few of the books that have been challenged include The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger, Forever by Judy Blume, Beloved by Toni Morrison and the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling.” As I read the list of books (which, if I remember from past years, also includes the Bible, the Koran, even the Book of Mormon) I realized how many of the them are books that I have read and reread many times over. So, in tribute to Banned Books week, albeit that it happens in a month, I want to write about books that I have loved, and that have impacted me, which, in many cases, are on the list (but not all). I am writing this without the aid of the actual books in my hand to refer to, so if I mix something up, don’t think too badly of me! BTW, if anyone cares to see a list of commonly banned books, here is a link.

Beloved, by Toni Morrison.
This book stood out to me from the above list for many reasons. I can’t think of Beloved without simultaneously wanting to cry at its beauty, and cringe at the depiction of Beloved’s character in the movie version (I didn’t appreciate Oprah making her seem, for lack of a better word, retarded.) I first read Beloved in one of my literary criticism classes at the University of Utah. Here is an excerpt:

124 WAS SPITEFUL. Full of a baby's venom. The women in the house knew it and so did the children. For years each put up with the spite in his own way, but by 1873 Sethe and her daughter Denver were its only victims. The grandmother, Baby Suggs, was dead, and the sons, Howard and Buglar, had run away by the time they were thirteen years old--as soon as merely looking in a mirror shattered it (that was the signal for Buglar); as soon as two tiny hand prints appeared in the cake (that was it for Howard). Neither boy waited to see more; another kettleful of chickpeas smoking in a heap on the floor; soda crackers crumbled and strewn in a line next to the doorsill. Nor did they wait for one of the relief periods: the weeks, months even, when nothing was disturbed. No. Each one fled at once--the moment the house committed what was for him the one insult not to be borne or witnessed a second time.

“Full of a baby’s venom.” Oh, that just brings such a clear picture to mind, and it is so indicative of Morrison’s talent at evoking powerful visualizations in her writing. A baby’s venom, making them almost vampires, their need for milk and love and affection sucking the life force out of its host, the mother. It almost gives me chills.

To me, Beloved is so much more than a slavery story, much more than a ghost story simply because of the beauty of Morrison’s prose. I love that the reason that Sethe put the name “Beloved” on her baby’s grave was because it was one of the only two words she remembered from her baby’s funeral: Dearly Beloved, and that she couldn’t afford to put the whole name on the gravestone. What words would I remember from my baby’s funeral? What scars would I wear from the death of my child? Would I wear my scars as nobly as Sethe?

I can remember one evening when I read the final chapter of Beloved to Shane, and sobbing as I read because of the beauty of it. Some of the chapters are only a few paragraphs long, and taken on their own, read as poetry.

I realize that I am not coming close to giving this beautiful book justice, but I had to begin my list of books with it.

Possession, by AS Byatt
This is a book that Amy recommended that I read, which I had began reading years ago and never finished and so I went back and reread it. It is the story of two academics who discover that two authors who lived a century before had a love affair. A quote from Possession was used in another of my favorite books, The Time Traveler’s Wife, where it says (I’m paraphrasing here) that they had reached the middle part of their lives: that everything they had ever done before was leading up to that moment, and that everything after would be a result of that moment. I don’t have one singular moment in my life, but there are certain events I look back and think about them and wonder if I missed some smell or thought or impression that should have led me to know that something significant was going to happen, and that forever afterward I would look upon that event as a turning point. Byatt’s use of telling both the modern story of the scholars doing the research, and also the lover’s story in the past is so well done. She immerses the reader in the excitement of words, in the use of language to convey to unknown readers the things that we cannot shout out to the words, but whisper into letters hidden in baby cradles. Just writing about Possession makes me want to go out and read it again. The movie version is excellent; I love Gweneth Paltrow in it, and the movie stayed very close to the intent of the book.


The Poisonwood Bible, by Barbara Kingsolver
I read this book before I had children, but even so, I was (and still am) haunted by some of the chapters that are narrated by the mother, Orleanna Price. It is the story of the wife and four daughters of a Baptist preacher who go to the Congo to spread the word of God. Each chapter is told from the perspective of either one of the daughters or the mother. In the chapter after one of the daughters dies, the mother speaks of her love for her baby, for the baby who came last, who “trailed her sweet scent” through the annals of memory. She writes how your first born is your best foot forward, that you cheer every step they make and then “crow it to the world.” But she contrasts that with your baby; your lastborn, who is the last to escape your body, whom you hold for a half hour after they are asleep just to make sure, whom you bathe with such tenderness, kissing their dimpled soapy hands as you try to make them giggle, remembering their fuzzy heads under your chin as you rock them. She also writes of being a wife, of learning that people change and that the man you marry will not stay the same person, but that you will sacrifice your love and life to him, all the while praying thanks to God for the comforts he brings, be it only a Maytag washer.

In the prologue of Poisonwood, Kingsolver thanks her parents for helping her to distinguish between “righteousness and being right.” As the events unfold, and you see the unyielding figure of Nathan Price (the father), who refuses to see the African people for who they are, and you just want to shake him. I see in him some people in my own culture, who make distinctions between those who “are” and those who “aren’t” and forget to see those around them as people who want to be accepted, not changed or judged. Some of the most wonderful people I know, spiritual people, would never step foot in any sort of house of God, while on the other hand, there are those who go to church every week and still fail to do as Jesus did: love one another. This book showed me so many truths about how we fail one another by not just loving and accepting those around us for who they are. Sorry to get preachy, I hope I didn’t get carried away. Just let it be known that I love this book.

Time Traveler’s Wife, by Audrey Neffenegger
Oh, just thinking about Time Traveler’s wife makes me want to read it again! I finished this book on New Years Day 2004 and promptly turned it over and read it again. I read it every year, and I sob for about the last third of the book. I love the story of Clare and Henry, the time traveler and his true love. I love the ability Neffenegger has to switch between the narration of Clare versus Henry: they have such distinctive voices, each telling their tale in their own way.

This is a book that I cannot recommend to just anyone. I have to know that they will be able to handle the subject matter, which is extremely sexual, but not in a way that makes it a trashy romance novel. It is just how the book is; to have not made it that way would have been untrue to the characters in the book. Sex is a part of life, and for good or bad, most people don’t wait until they are married to have it. I have heard of many people who have not been able to get past this aspect of the novel, and therefore haven’t finished it. I don’t criticize these people, you are who you are, but for me, I would have missed out on something that I really love had I stopped due to its graphic nature. The beauty, the longing in the book is so real. There are very few novels where you can really FEEL the love that the people have for one another the way you can with Time Traveler’s Wife.


Ok, I could probably go on and on like this for many more pages, but I think that I have gone on long enough. I am so grateful that I live here in the United States where I can read whatever I want. I don’t know what my life would be like without books; they have been such an integral part of me for as long as I can remember. When I don’t have a good book (or two or seven) on my nightstand waiting be read, I feel incomplete. I am who I am in so many ways because of books. So thanks for letting me go on my personal rant about my most loved books. I’m embarrassed to say how many times while writing this tears have came to my eyes as I think of the scenes I was describing. I leave with a quote from the prologue of Time Traveler’s Wife:

And Clare, always Clare. Clare in the morning, sleepy and crumple-faced. Clare with her arms plunging into the papermaking vat, pulling up the mold and shaking it so, and so, to meld the fibers. Clare reading, with her hair hanging over the back of the chair, massaging balm into her cracked red hands before bed. Clare's low voice is in my ear often.

I hate to be where she is not, when she is not. And yet, I am always going, and she cannot follow.