Hey there, all! I told you I'd give you a double dosage this week, and look! I've actually delivered! :) I do try to keep my promises, to others and myself, so I'm sorry about that last slip-up.
I haven't done a book post on here in quite a bit, so decided that it's about time my literature-loving brain take the front seat. This isn't a typical "Reads with Rhi" review post, though. Instead, I wanted to take a second to think and talk about the books that have shaped my mind. These are the novels in which, while reading it, I consciously noticed my brain shifting: it could have been an idea, a new empathy, or a complete change in moral understanding; it could have simply been the realization of a new genre I liked. Regardless, these novels changed me, in ways that I still remember now, years after I've read most of them.
I managed to narrow this list down to twenty, and even that was difficult. I'm a bibliophile, and reading has been a integral part of my life since before I could read myself. There are stacks upon stacks of books I love (for example, I didn't even include my beloved Sherlock Holmes series in here); there are even poems that broke my heart (I'm looking at you, "How to Watch Your Brother Die") and short stories that deeply affected me (what's up, "The Yellow Wallpaper" and "Desiree's Baby") that I didn't include. I tried to get it down to the ones that I remember directly shifting my thought process. And those are the ones below, listed, as best I could, in chronological order from when I read them.
Enjoy!
(Psst...if there's an * by the title, that means I included spoilers. If you haven't read the book/don't want the spoilers, skip over it. I won't be offended. :) )
20) Samantha: An American Girl (Susan S. Adler, Maxine Rose Schur, and Valerie Tripp): This was the first book--er, collection of books--that I read by myself. It was around the time of entering elementary school (I was an early reader, but I can't remember quite when I actually started reading). I have fond memories of lying on my pink comforter in my attic bedroom, taking turns reading chapters aloud with my mom. We'd try to get through two each night, sometimes more if I begged. This is the book that taught me to love books. Samantha was my first much-loved book series; I still have my well-worn copy up on my closet shelf today. I remember this series of novels introducing me to the joy of escaping to a different world, the empathy that I could have for fictional characters, and how much they could teach me. Samantha was the beginning of it all, and she will always hold a special place in my heart.
19) The Betsy-Tacy series (Maud Hart Lovelace): Although I read and loved Little House on the Prairie as a child, this collection was truly the one I counted as my childhood series. I tend to describe it to those who aren't familiar as "the urban Little House." The books are semi-autobiographical, following Betsy Ray through her life in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries in suburban Minnesota. The first novel starts with her as a young girl, around five or six, and the final ends right after her first child is born. I ate this series up, blowing through it. It felt like growing up with her, in a sense, giving me a friend to sit with for awhile. More importantly, almost, is that this series gave me a pretty good taste of feminism as a young girl. Betsy shirks propriety of the time a lot, much like Lovelace herself did. She chooses to travel the world before getting married; she's the smartest in her class, and is proud of it. Betsy is brilliant, and loud, and creative, and stubborn, and witty, and ambitious. She's a wonderful heroine for kids to look up to. I certainly did. To be honest, I think I still do. Betsy taught me that a woman can do anything she sets her mind to, and I've been trying to follow that teaching ever since.
18) The Dear America series (various authors): I grew up in a history-loving family, so I've always been fascinated by the past and learning about it. I literally used to take notes in museums, scratching as fast as I could in a notebook as my family wandered ahead, wanting to capture every anecdote I could; I'll always be that way. This book series encouraged that love. I remember reading my first one in third grade, the one about a girl named Hattie traveling the Oregon Trail with her family, and I was hooked from then on. I amassed quite the collection (and still have it). Outside of the history, though, I think what interested me the most was learning about how America treated different people at different times. Reading these books taught me about NINA, Jim Crow, social justice movements, and so much more. For being written for a younger audience (and written through a young person's eyes), Dear America never held anything back, whether it be slavery, anti-immigration, suffrage, or attacks on protesters. This was the first time I can recall learning, explicitly, about the darker side of America's past. I learned to be proud of progression, but to keep fighting for equality. Now, I didn't understand that exact verbiage as a child, but I find now that that is what the series ingrained in me: empathy, and a want to fight for what is right.
17) Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte): Wuthering Heights was the first classic novel I ever read. I can recall fighting my way through the first two chapters (they drag on, y'all; make sure you get past them before putting it down), but then finishing it in only a few days. I had to use the footnotes for the Yorkshire dialect, though the language was fairly easy to catch on outside of that. Reading this started my love for British literature and classic novels. The Gothic romance surrounding Heathcliff and Cathy was dark, addictive, and fantastical; I couldn't put it down, my intrigue piqued by the characters and the nature of a dark hero. Bronte's novel spurred me on to read her sister Charlotte, and the likes of Austen, Dickens, and Conan Doyle. She taught me what makes classic literature good, and, because of that, I'm a huge proponent of reading the classics now. Much like Samantha, Wuthering Heights will always rest close to my heart.
16) Speak (Laurie Halse Anderson)*: For those of you who've read this, you know what I mean when I talk of how powerful it is. Speak was the first book I read that dealt with sexual assault and its aftermath, illustrating how cruel a rape culture society could be. I don't think I have the words to describe how deeply reading the story affected me: in turn, I was angry, I was sad, I was joyous, I was irate, I was broken and healed by Melinda's story. My reading of this was around the time that a friend of mine--someone I love so very much--told me of their own assault. This novel helped me understand how to help them; it helped me cope with what they had told me, and aid them in their healing. Similarly important, it made me realize how much work we all have to do. As a younger kid (I was in middle school at the time), that was a powerful epiphany. Because of it, I'm incredibly outspoken about stopping rape culture today; I'll always be an ear, and I'll always help in whatever way I can. So, thank you, Laurie Halse Anderson. Your bravery in writing this taught me well.
15) Between Shades of Gray (Ruta Sepetys)*: Let me get straight to the controversial point: this novel is what made me face, and consciously realize, the hypocrisy in American history. We never learn about the genocide that swept the Baltics, powered by Russia, because America was an ally with them; the murder of innocent people in gulags is swept under the rug because we can't bear to acknowledge that we sat by and let it happen. I remember how heartbroken and shocked I was to read a scene in which an American vessel ignores people screaming for help along the river, choosing an alliance over lives. Now, I understand that war is complicated. This book, however, showed me how morally corrupt it can make a country. In addition, it taught me how the good can be found in anyone, and how hope can get us to survive. Sepetys's novel--based on her grandmother's life--is poignant and powerful in ways I can't explain. She makes us examine ourselves, and that sadness and anger, coupled with hope, was what I needed to read.
14) The Shadowhunters Chronicles, especially The Infernal Devices (Cassandra Clare): This series of book series is basically my Harry Potter (I haven't read HP, though Jay finally got me to watch the films; please don't kill me!). I blazed through The Mortal Instruments in about a week (because I'm crazy), and have kept up with each new book release ever since. I have all of them. My particular favorite is the Infernal Devices trilogy: I found myself identifying most with those characters (still do), and it has the added perk of taking place in nineteenth century London. Solid environment. I can't fit all that this fantastical universe of Shadowhunters, demons, angels, faeries, vampires, warlocks, and werewolves has taught me, so I'll just give you a few examples: brotherhood and healthy male relationships; the love of friendship; the dangers of labeling others; the importance of acceptance; and fighting for those who have no voice. Clare does an incredible job of illustrating the issues of reality in fantasy novels. These books are my heart.
13) The Perks of Being a Wallflower (Stephen Chbotsky): I kid you not, y'all, I read this book in a day. And it was tech week. And I had rehearsal until 11 that night. That's how good this thing was...plus it's a short one. Chbotsky hits all of the hot button topics--homosexuality, consensual sex, drugs, alcohol, abuse--but there's one thing that I remember resonating with me the most: Charlie recognizing his mental illness and asking for help. As someone who still kinda sucks at this, hearing of that importance from someone who felt like a friend was powerful. Though I'm nowhere near the severity of Charlie's life, his journal entries made me feel heard, in addition to making my empathic self more determined than ever to help others. Truly, this short novel is brilliant: I recommend it to anyone. (Also, the film with Logan Lerman, Emma Watson, and Ezra Miller is pretty good, too!)
12) East of Eden (John Steinbeck): I. Adore. East of Eden. I had to read this book for my sophomore year English course. It's a thick one, so many classmates groaned over having to read it; however, even they loved it by the end. Half biography of his family, half retelling of Cain and Abel, Steinbeck takes you on the crazy, emotional journey of two entwined families. There is so much to be gained from this book, especially in regards to morality and the question of humans being intrinsically good or evil, but the thing that has stuck with me most is one word: timshel. Thou mayest. It's one word that translates differently in the Hebrew religious texts versus the English ones; instead of your path being decided for you, you have the right to choose. The word has bolstered me many a time. It's stayed in my mind for six years, comforting me in making difficult choices and encouraging me to stay true to myself. It's powerful in the book, and it's powerful in life. Timshel, everyone. Thou mayest.
11) Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café (Fannie Flagg)*: I want to say I read this book junior year, but from here on is where I get extremely fuzzy on timing. Whatever. Doesn't matter. This book is as hilarious as it is heart-breaking, covering lesbianism, miscegenation, segregation, sexism, and oppression in a Southern town, following the past and the present. It takes several different POVs (which I LOVE in a book), and has parallel storylines. To be honest, though, with all of that, I think what this book taught me most was the power one person's voice can have. There's one particular scene in which Idgie (a woman the reader is led to assume is a lesbian) confronts members of the KKK who are trying to force black families out of a safehouse. She is but one person, but her strength, her wit, and her dignity force the abashed men gone. I was so very touched by that. Idgie, and the other characters surrounding her, gave me a sense of the power within one person. I've tried to keep that in mind ever since.
10) The Opposite of Loneliness (Marina Keegan): This one will be a short blurb, I promise. This book is a collection of short stories and essays written by a Yale student who was killed shortly after graduation; it was published by her family and her professors, to honor a brilliant mind lost too soon. And she was (and is) a brilliant mind. Her stories are philosophical and inquisitive, but with so much humor that you can't help but wonder why you're laughing, crying, and having an existential crisis at the same time. What I took away from it is this: we don't know how much time we have left in this world. Make good use of it. Marina Keegan and her fictional characters sure did.
9) Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen): While I haven't read all of Austen's works, I still proudly call myself a Janeite. Her style of writing is both eloquent and hilarious, dignified and sarcastic. Pride and Prejudice was the first novel of hers I read, and it's now my favorite classic novel of all time. Seriously. Her satire is whip-smart and educated, and could entertain anyone. How could you not die laughing at a Mrs. Bennet monologue? Her characters are beloved (in fact, two of her names are on a list of names I love for children in the far-off future), and so well-sculpted. What I gained from her, though, are the teachings of feminism, feminine power, and strength in the face of indignity. While P&P is romantic and ends in a marriage, nothing about it is traditional. Elizabeth turns down her suitors, to her mother's chagrin; Mary is unashamed of her bookish nature; Jane is kind but never a pushover; and Lydia and and Kitty (as annoying as they are) are relentless is getting what they want. Several of the men are dimwits, and (icing on the cake!) Darcy falls for Elizabeth's brain, not her looks. That shirking of tradition provided me with a sense of independence, one that, frankly, I still carry today. :)
8) The Sunflower (Simon Wiesenthal)*: I read this short book for my Holocaust Literature class my senior year of high school; the question it asks has haunted me ever since (melodramatic, but true). Simon Wiesenthal was a Jewish man in a work camp in Nazi Germany. This book tells the story of him being summoned to the hospital room of a young Nazi: the boy is dying, and he asks Wiesenthal to forgive him for what he has done. Ultimately, Wiesenthal leaves the room without saying anything, unable to forgive but maybe giving the boy some hope. From there, he asks all of us: what would you have done? Would you have forgiven him? I still don't know the answer to this question. I think I would have done what Wiesenthal did, but I fluctuate between all of the different answers. It makes you think, and what a critical thing to be considering. What is forgiveness, and can we always give it? Perhaps the opinions in the book will give you some food for thought. They sure did for me.
7) The Pact (Jodi Picoult) and 6) In Cold Blood (Truman Capote): These were read one right after the other, and they both blew my freaking mind. They entirely changed my mindset on our justice system and incarceration in general: by showing the humanity in people we're so quick to judge as pure evil, and by illustrating the roadblocks in the courts, Picoult and Capote led me, as a young person, into seeing the corruption of our current system. The anger that The Pact gave me and the sadness of In Cold Blood will stick with me for the rest of my life. I highly recommend reading them. They'll hurt, but they're important.
5) Looking for Alaska (John Green): Look, I know that John Green's writing has its faults. I've enjoyed most of them, but I will acknowledge that there are some problematic things in his books. I get that. However, Looking for Alaska came to me at a time when I absolutely needed it. At its core, the book is about how to forgive, not only others, but yourself, as well. When I read this, my senior year, I was in a bad place, not allowing myself to move on from a past hurt that still felt so recent. Reading this book allowed me to let go of that; it's truly the one that taught me my edited mantra of, "Forgive, but don't forget." That's why it's my favorite of Green's novels. In fact, for me, it had more impact than The Fault in Our Stars.
4) The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood): If you've seen the show, you need to read the book. Seriously. Before the Hulu series came out, one my favorite English teachers recommended this one to me, after I took her Women's Literature course (still one of my favorite courses to this day). It's a haunting, frightening novel, just as it should be. It still has the classic Atwood satirical snark, but the reality with which she writes is unnerving. This one instilled in me one thing: how easy it is for evil to come to fruition when good people stand by. When we ignore what's happening in the real world, and make no move to stop what should be stopped, we end up in a world like Offred's. Especially in today's climate, that's terrifying. Atwood helps us figure out what to do to stop it.
3) You Are a Badass (Jen Sincero): I've talked about this one on the blog before, so I'll link it here. For this post, let it suffice to say: Sincero taught me how to be a badass. Her teachings on badassery in self-acknowledgment, self-improvement, and self-belief are both hilarious and so true. Highly, HIGHLY recommend.
2) The Ambition Decisions: What Women Know About Work, Family, and the Path to Building a Life (Hana Schank and Elizabeth Wallace): Once again, I've talked about this one on here, so here's the link. I read this book so quickly, and it blew my mind with the information it provides on the struggle to balance, as women, in this world. I'd read it again in a heartbeat.
1) Sex with Shakespeare (Jillian Keenan): It feels a little odd to end with this one, for some reason, but it is the latest one to give me a major mind shift. I'm a literature nerd, and I love Shakespeare and the study of his works, so this was an easy sell for me. Keenan's analyses of the Bard's plays offer ideas that I've never considered, and give empowerment to those modern audiences see as weak. She gives total acceptance to any sexuality and humanizes the sexual interests of the past and the present. In addition, Keenan showing us how Shakespeare reads to different cultures is fascinating, and, honestly, heartbreaking (for example, some cultures view Desdemona's death as her own fault, as these cultures have a history of normalizing domestic violence). It's such a fun, fantastic read: Keenan is hilarious, brilliant, and blunt. I loved it all the way through.
If you made it this far, you're my new best friend! Congratulations! ;)
Seriously, though, thank you for reading. Let me know if you've read any of these, or what some of your most impactful books have been!
Have a wonderful day- I'll see you next time! Love you all!
~Rhiannon~
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