| April 13, 1999 The Awakening
by Kate Chopin (1899). I read this book in college in 1990 or so, and re-read
it this winter when a friend was reading it for class. I remember thinking, the
first time I read it, that I might understand it better -- and like it better --
when I got older. I think I was right.
At the most basic level, this is the story of a wife and
mother who unexpectedly discovers herself, and an exploration of the
possibilities presented by such a discovery. Although the novel is set a hundred
years ago, its themes are resonant today. The tension between being who you
think you are and being who the rest of the world thinks you are is as much
a part of our time as it was Chopin's. It's just as hard to find contentment and
satisfaction today as it was for Edna, I think. I like to hope that our prospects
aren't quite as bleak as those presented in The Awakening, but sometimes it's
hard to know that.
Chopin's style is pure joy to read, clear and poetic all at
once. Human strength and human frailty expressed in the most convincing terms:
For the first time she recognized the symptoms of infatuation
which she had felt incipiently as a child, as a girl in her earliest teens, and later as a
young woman. The recognition did not lessen the reality, the poignancy of the
revelation by any suggestion or promise of instability. The past was nothing to her;
offered no lesson which she was willing to heed. The future was a mystery which she
never attempted to penetrate. The present alone was significant; was hers, to
torture her as it was doing then with the biting conviction that she had lost that which
she had held, that she had been denied that which her impassioned, newly awakened being
demanded.
The Perks
of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky (1999). I just finished this
book, and I'm really not sure how I felt about it, but I've been thinking about it a lot
in the last few days so I think it's worth a mention here. This is the story of a
year in the life of a boy, told from his point of view through letters to a
stranger. This unconventional narrative style works surprisingly well. The
story itself is sad and funny and in some ways very familiar.
Charlie spends a lot of time thinking about his life, his
friends, his family, and his future. He makes a lot of mix tapes and pines with love
for his best friend. He lives on the periphery -- as Patrick says, he's a
wallflower. "You see things. You keep quiet about them. And you
understand." But he's also a very smart guy, and he's learning how to live.
This book is set in Pittsburgh, and Charlie's brother plays
football for Dear Old State, so there was a little regional interest in it for me, too.
Autobiography of
a Face by Lucy Grealy (1994). Lucy Grealy had cancer when she
was ten years old and lost a third of her jaw. She spent the next twenty years being
treated for "looking different" from the rest of the world. This book is
about her relationship with her face, and how that relationship affected the rest of her
life. The book is fascinating, and not nearly as dark as you might expect.
It's a very honest book, nothing sugar-coated about it, and thought-provoking
throughout. I recommend this book very highly.
Moominsummer
Madness by Tove Jansson (1954). This is one in a series of
Finnish children's books about the Moomins, lovely folk whose philosophy of life seems to
be based largely on a simple, calm belief in the power of good jam. In this story,
Moominvalley is washed out by a flood, and the Moomins retreat to a floating house that
turns out to be a theater. By the end of the book they mount an amazing production
of Moominpappa's dramatic masterpiece. This is a dreamy, happy book. |
