What do the books we read say about us? It seems to make sense that our favorite and most beloved books would define us in some way. It may be that we see some of ourselves in the characters. The writing style speaks to us. It might be an adventure that we wish we could be a part of. More simply, it might just be that we like it. Because don’t the things we like say something about the things that we are?
Many of the things I like are things that I aspire to be, I want to emulate the good things that make me happy. But sometimes the things we like are things so far outside and beyond ourselves, we can only express our fondness and appreciation from a spectator’s point of view. One might say they enjoyed something very much but it in no way represented who they are. Am I enjoying this because it takes the freedoms that I do not take in my own life? Are these things I wish I could be, but I don’t have the courage?
It is also very common that people hate the things they see inside themselves. Herman Hesse said “If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is a part of yourself. What isn’t part of ourselves doesn’t disturb us.”
Could this be taken into consideration in this discussion? Quite possibly, one might put a book down because the character reminds them of the unflattering qualities that they themselves possess. Of course, one might avoid a book altogether if it focuses on subject matter that they don’t like. From a writer’s perspective, I have read books that I absolutely hated because of the poor writing, the sentence structure, the repetition of words. It reminded me of my own failures in the past, the mistakes I often make in writing, the obstacles that I have to overcome to be better.
There are so many things in this life that influence us, we couldn’t possibly count them all. The books I read, nonfiction and fiction alike, influence my mood, they change what I am thinking about from day-to-day, and they remind me of what is important to me. When I was reading (and loving) Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar, I was an emotional wreck. I would lay in bed at night, unable to sleep. It’s amazing what books can teach us and make us feel. More than what the books we read say about us, it is how the books we read shape us that is important. We learn, we absorb, we relate. Among the first books I ever read were The Chronicles of Narnia. I carry those stories and those characters around with me always. I think we take a piece of what we love and add it to ourselves, whether it be books, movies, plays, poems. All of us have a portfolio to fill with the things we enjoy, the beautiful things that we want our lives to include.
I am in an interesting part of my life right now. I feel like I am in a constant struggle between childhood and adulthood. I want to keep my youthful spirit but I’m afraid it is being smothered by the stresses of adult life that we all have to face. I just finished Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. I can’t think of a better book to chronicle the innocence and beauty of childhood and a child’s imagination. I’m now reading Orwell’s 1984 for the first time: a horrifying look at the “future” in an oppressed world. “Big Brother is Watching You.” Who knows if the future will resemble the world portrayed in this book, and has it begun already? But could anything be further from lovely Wonderland life, where anything is possible?
In a world that seems to be changing so quickly, I am trying to find balance in my own life. Some days I can only think of all the negative and scary things, when there is so much good and so much beauty. Books can make you think, they can make you reflect, or they can make you forget for just enough time to find peace in your life. Whether or not someone may be able to get a clear picture of who I am based on what I read is an interesting notion. But one thing is for sure from my own experience: Books always help me back to where I need to be.
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