What We’re Reading: Wren’s Survival Guide to the Classics
You ever think, now why in tarnation is this book considered a classic? I do. And I’ve decided that really, it’s about what makes a classic for YOU. As an individual. With distinct tastes. No matter how many times someone tells me that I should love The Scarlet Letter, Moby Dick, or The Great Gatsby, I will internally roll my eyes. Don’t get me wrong, I can always appreciate any book for its place in “the canon” (whichever canon that may be), and I am a firm believer in finding something good in anything. But these are a few of MY fiction classics. What are yours?
Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison. Or really anything by Toni Morrison. If that woman isn’t a genius, then neither is Einstein. Morrison’s writing is by far my favorite. Her stories are honest, gritty, beautiful, heartbreaking, and stomach-turning, and her words are poetry. This book was the first of hers that I read, and the convoluted family of Macon Dead III, the mystical Pilate, and the love-crazed Hagar have always stayed with me.
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. This is just one of those books that will always be near and dear to my heart. I actually didn’t read this until college, on my own accord, in one of those, well, I should probably read this since it’s a classic and all moments. The characters are some of the most lovable I’ve come across in all my reading. Jem and Scout act according to sympathy and understanding with Boo Radley, making an “invisible” mystery human. Yet the hypocrisy and racism of their town does not escape the children’s observation, either.
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Ok, Hazel’s going to kill me for writing about this one, because ever since age 14, this has been her Book, with a capital “B.” When she travelled around Europe for a while, this was the only book she brought with her in order to save space, and because who needs another? When she finished it for the umpteenth time, she would just start it all over again. But who can deny Austen’s wit, humour, and acute societal observations, lovely surprises in a romantic text? Or Mr. Darcy, for that matter? That’s right. No one.
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain. Another writer who can tickle my funny bone while preaching societal lessons. This book I both loved to read and also wholeheartedly appreciated its role in history. The use of dialect for Huck and Jim, the trajectory of their growing unique relationship, and the crazy adventures that they encounter on that raft — quality all around.
(Psst: We have a surprise in store for you! All will be revealed tomorrow. Patience, friends, patience.)
Comments are closed.
I’ve found that by reading the history of a book, as well as understanding the period in which it took place, can mightily enhance the story for me. And I’m not just talking about history a la Wikipedia, but more like history a la Bill Bryson–the weird, the absurd, the real, the details that make me understand what it was like to live as a character in the story. How else would I know that until electricity was used in the home, gas lamps made everything sooty, and some servants spent every day trying to unstitch and clean the strange hybrids of cloths and fabrics that grew dark and gray; or that in that particular period you’ll see men and women posing beside the same type of plant (the name eludes me) because it was one of the only plants that could survive in such unhealthy air.
The context of everything is crucial to reading “the classics!” Otherwise I’ll read Flaubert’s “Madame Bovary” and see the beautiful writing, and not the powerful machinations of liberal and pre-feminist thinking. Or perhaps I could snooze a bit through “The Sorrows of Young Werther” because I don’t know the new bourgeouis conflicts between the classes. In that vein, I find the Norton Anthologies to help a bit when it comes to prefacing the framework of a written piece.
I wholeheartedly agree with you about the history adding to the understanding and appreciation of a book. I think that’s why I love those books – they are full of complex characters who are challenging something in the time of history they’re in. They’re at the brink of social change, which is the part of history that I find most fascinating.
I’ve saved all my various Norton anthologies from college courses, which I like to refer back to when re-reading the classics. You’re right, they’re definitely helpful.
I agree with Aaron that there is a certain amount of contextual history needed to appreciate some “classics.” The Norton Anthologies have a special place in my heart for this reason also. It was thanks to their introduction that I realized I have writing forefathers and mothers in the Romantics. Their belief that Energy, Imagination and Nature are above Restraint, Reason and Mechanization touched a chord with me and allowed me into their work. William Blake is one of my favorite poets, especially after reading about his penchant for reciting Paradise Lost with his wife while wandering nude through their garden.
All that being said, I’ve found something about the Russian classics that I love, even though I know little about the social context they were written in. I read Anna Karenina last summer and feel in love with the characters. Leo Tolstoy is the kind of writer whose characters are entirely real to me. Despite how daunting Anna Karenina is, every word felt necessary to me. I’ve loved everything I’ve read by both Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky because, to me, they weren’t writing about ideas that need to be teased out – they wrote characters who live and fail and fall in love and succeed just the way I do. I was sad when I set aside Anna Karenina because I knew I’d miss Levin and his love for Kitty. I felt like I’d become friends with them.
Bahaha, oh Blake. Writers are so wonderfully bizarre sometimes…
I am going to confess, I have not finished a Russian classic yet. I did start War and Peace a few summers ago, but got way-laid with jobs, school, etc at the time. After reading this, however, I’m inspired to pick it up again! Thanks for sharing Timothy!
Maybe start with a not-quite-classic work by a classic author. I adored Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Ilyich. Tolstoy didn’t write any fiction for nearly a decade after publishing Anna Karenina due, in part, to a pretty profound spiritual crisis. (His anarcho-Christian politics are one thing that fascinates me about the man.) The Death of Ivan Ilyich marked the end of both his writing drought and his spiritual crisis. It’s a short work – my copy is 134 pages, including a 34 page introduction.
Duly noted. I’m pretty sure our folks have The Death of Ivan Illyich. Thanks for the suggestion, Timothy!
*How* to Kill a Mockingbird. Haven’t heard of that one. Sounds informative.
HA. How, exactly, did no one (including myself) catch that until now?? Wowee.
Many thanks. Will correct momentarily.
(Indeed, I wonder how many steps such a how-to would involve? Step One: Find mockingbird. Step Two… )
And of course the sequel … How to Cook a Mockingbird.