Books

 Books are a very interesting aspect of life. I feel that they occupy such an important role, and are capable of changing our mindsets, emotions, and even attitudes, beliefs, and personalities to such a great extent that I feel that their collective presence upon our lives is incredible.

I was once watching a video about a prisoner who was kept in a maximum security prison in solitary confinement. An existence confined to solitary confinement feels highly drab, but also scary, due to its incredibly limiting nature. I often think of my life as infinite in potential, environment, and history. Yet, thinking about the existence of those in solitary confinement continues to surprise me, as I realize that an existence and complete life almost completely confined to a 5x5 foot prison cell is not only theoretically possible, but also a reality in today’s world.

One interesting observation one such prisoner mentioned that particularly stood out to me was the idea that books were that prisoner’s source of sustenance. He read within the prison, and account of this behavior, he was able to maintain a mode of existence that was not entirely drab and ornery. In recent months, I recall my adoption of reading as a hobby in a rosy light. Reading and rereading books like To Kill a Mockingbird, The Grapes of Wrath, and Great Expectations engrossed me into the story in a similar way that a movie captivates my attention.

(I should clarify, now, that my comments about books in this paragraph are largely related to classic fiction novels, as they have made up the majority of my hobby reading in the past few months. Other than hobby reading, textbooks have been highly valuable to me, and I am grateful for the valuable information they provide, whether in the form of math textbooks, programming, and science textbooks.)

In reading fiction books, I am drawn to the world of the character, and take pleasure in the knowledge that the book I am reading has been read before by countless others, and that there is meaning that can be extracted out of them and shared with others. (However, when this process of extraction, analysis, and discussion becomes critical or analytical to a degree that seems unreasonable to me, the interesting element of this discussion is removed, and it is replaced by a highly mundane process that seems to me rather useless.)

To close this section, I shall comment upon a time when I felt myself particularly enlightened by reading. This sentiment arose when I read Great Expectations, and was pondering upon the character of Pip. I was wondering the goals that a young “lad”, similar to myself would tend to endeavor upon in a radically different society, in which career opportunities bear no semblance to careers today, mere survival in society was not taken for granted to the same extent as today, and one where status in society played a large role in determining one’s future.

I wondered what common element of human nature might I draw by comparing my dreams, goals, habits, and aspirations with Pip’s. Across the nearly 200 year gap, which, admittedly, is rather small when compared with the temporal gap between today’s society and that of ancient Rome, and smaller yet when contrasted with the several tens of thousands of years of prehistorical human existence, I realized that I shared with Pip several events and attitudes in my life, such as fond recollection of a dear individual in my life, the pleasure of enjoying company of a best friend, increasing independence from family and undertaking of responsibility, a proclivity to reflect upon one’s life (though likely not to the same extent and expressive beauty), and uncertainty regarding one’s future fate.

Books have also been valuable to me because of their ability to provide me with suggestions and thoughts regarding correct behaviors, different actions and personalities, and decisions in the face of difficulty. The character of Helen Burns from Jane Eyre comes to mind. A foil character to Jane, Helen is demure and composed, and does not feel indignant when attacked or unfairly criticized. Her behavior influences not only Jane, but also affected me, and provoked me to imagine if I would do the same when reprimanded or criticized by my parents.

Jane’s thoughts, actions, and motivations, as well as those of the protagonist in the majority of books I’ve read recently have stood out to me because they cause me to associate with the character, to imagine what decision I would make in their place, as well as vicariously experience their feelings of disgust, sorrow, elation, and peace.

In To Kill a Mockingbird, Scout, Jem, and Dill all excited me because I longed at times to partake in their adventures, experience the duty and honor of caring for a younger sister as Jem does, feel the thrill of rolling in a tire down the street, and fantasizing with friends about a reclusive neighbor. I wish to meet Boo Radley, whose actions and behavior remind me of my own brother.

I wish to experience the intense thrill, excitement, and chaotic anarchy of the boys in Lord of the Flies, or to imagine what it would be like if I were stranded on an island with my best friends, bound by no rules, free to act as I please and unleash my unbridled instincts (though I know that such would be a decision that likely amounts to catastrophe).

I admire George’s leadership and courage in taking care of Lennie, accepting the responsibility even when it meant a more constrained and limited life for himself, in Steinbeck’s touching novella of two comrades. I long to experience Tom’s fearlessness and ability to handle tough family situations, such as being separated from family in jailtime, enduring the death of family members, and taking a highly uncertain and risky journey across the United States during a period of economic difficulty, while remaining calm and maintaining such a high degree of emotional stability, while not taking rash decisions or acting on impulses that would prove to be dangerous, such as the alcoholism of his uncle, or the departure of his brother from the family.

I also appreciate books for their ability to increase my knowledge of how diverse characters lived in different settings, at different times, as well as the ability to understand different modes of communication, writing tactics, and the opportunity to adopt a more diverse vocabulary that I can use to not only express myself more precisely but even to probe within myself and understand my own personality.

When talking into my voice recorder late at night, I often find myself at a loss of new ideas to express, of words to write, and of tales to tell. By reading others’ tales, and taking pleasure in the novelty of stories and ideas that comes with their unique experience with life and observations, the story occupies the place of an individual, as if I were in dialogue with them and having the pleasure of listening to a fascinating tale from them.