Goodreads: Mr. Bliss Series: None Age Category: Children’s Source: Library Published: 1982
Summary
Mr. Bliss, who lives in a tall house and wears tall hats, decides one day to trade in his bike for a motor car. Thus starts a series of adventures as he drives off to see his friends.
Review
Originally written for Tolkien’s children, probably in the late 1920s or early 1930s, J. R. R. Tolkien’s Mr. Bliss is a short, humorous story about the titular character’s adventures in his new motor car. The quirky tale will delight and surprise fans of Tolkien, who have here more proof of his virtuosity as a writer. The sly humor is found not only in the mishaps of the protagonist, but also in the interplay between text and pictures; often the narrator will comment upon his own drawings for comedic effect. Fans of the Professor will not want to miss out on this lesser-known gem!
This volume presents a facsimile of Tolkien’s original manuscript–including his illustrations and handwritten text–alongside a more legible print version. Much of the charm lies in the manuscript as Tolkien wrote it, by hand. He comments upon the pictures, noting when he no longer felt like drawing the car, explaining that a character is missing because he left the room, and describing the emotions that lead to the facial expressions of the characters. I found myself laughing out loud several times at the sheer absurdity of it. Admittedly, however, the printed text is helpful and necessary; I could not always decipher Tolkien’s handwriting.
The story itself might surprise readers mostly familiar with Tolkien’s Middle-Earth. To me, the absurdity of the work is reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland–which is not something I would say of any of Tolkien’s other children’s books. We have here a silly protagonist who owns a hybrid girabbit, then goes on a motor car escapade and meets (stuffed?) three bears who, of course, stand in the road and wave their arms. People and cabbages and bananas and bears all pile into the car, and more adventures are had. It’s all very silly. And funny! It’s not at all like Middle-Earth.
I found it quite easy to imagine Tolkien telling this delightful little tale to his children. It has that quality of being meant for sympathetic listeners who just want a good story and who don’t mind laughing at something ridiculous. There is something almost cozy about it, silly as it is. I found myself charmed, and I imagine many others will be, as well.
Goodreads: All Things Bright and Beautiful Series: All Creatures Great and Small #2 Age Category: Adult Source: Library Published: 1974
Summary
The second volume of James Herriot’s account of life as a vet in the Yorkshire Dales brings new experiences and new characters. Herriot is recently married, and enjoying it. However, his customers–both human and animal–continue to surprise and delight!
Review
James Herriot brings his signature charm and gentle humor to this second volume of stories collecting his experiences as a veterinarian in the Yorkshire Dales. Recently married, he adds some stories about the bliss of married life. But the focus remains on his four-legged patients and the humans who own them–and the humans often prove the most difficult to work with! Readers who adored All Creatures Great and Small will rejoice to find that the story continues.
In many respects, All Things Bright and Beautiful captures the same elements that make the first volume so special. Herriot treats all his subjects with sympathy, so that even rude and ungrateful customers come across as a part of a bemused observation on the eccentricities of human beings. Herriot himself is always the joke, and never the people who put him through such trials.
Still, at times, I found myself that Herriot were not always presenting himself as the hapless victim of circumstance. For instance, three times he gets drunk at the hands of the hospital vet, becomes ill, and embarrasses himself in company. Herriot always writes as if he just could not help it–he had to drink all that alcohol to prevent offending his friend. After awhile, however this particular storyline was not amusing. I really wanted to shout, “Just say no!” at Herriot, and tell him he is not obligated to make himself ill to make his friend feel good.
I also found myself wishing for more stories of Siegfried and Tristan. Tristan does get a rollicking storyline involving the appearance of a local ghost. Otherwise, however, he is relegated to chief supporter of Herriot’s attempts to court Helen. (The book goes back and forth in time, so it covers both Herriot’s current marriage and his past dating experiences.) Siegfried, too, is notably absent, which is a shame since his larger-than-life personality added a great deal to the humor of the first volume. Helen gains more prominence instead. But, as Herriot always portrays Helen as kind, loving, and generous, she is not exactly as interesting as the unhinged Siegfried, even if she does sound like a wonderful person to know.
Altogether, however, All Things Bright and Beautiful is a charming and cozy read, the type of book one wants to open when the world seems harsh. It is full with a great joy in life and a great love for humanity, the type that seems absolutely contagious.
Goodreads: A Bad Business Series: None Age Category: Adult Source: Netgalley Publication Date: March 29, 2022
Official Summary
This vivid collection of new translations by Nicolas Pasternak Slater and Maya Slater illuminates Dostoevsky’s dazzling versatility as a writer.
His remarkable short fiction swings from wickedly sharp humour to gripping psychological intensity, from cynical social mockery to moments of unexpected tenderness.
The stories in this collection range from impossible fantasy to scorching satire.
A civil servant finds a new passion for his work when he’s swallowed alive by a crocodile.
A struggling writer stumbles on a cemetery where the dead still talk to each other.
An arrogant but well-intentioned gentleman provokes an uproar at an aide’s wedding, and in the marital bed.
A young boy finds unexpected salvation on a cold and desolate Christmas Eve.
Review
It sounds funny to say I’m writing a review for an ARC of a book by Dostoevsky, but this edition features new translations by Nicolas Pasternak and Maya Slater, and it has the added benefit that I don’t believe I’ve read any of these stories in any other translation before.
The collection as a whole was hit-or-miss for me: I only liked 3 out of the 6 stories. There’s also no introduction in the ARC to help contextualize any of the stories or explain why they’re grouped together, and I see no indication there will be one in the final print.
Here are my thoughts on each story:
1. A Bad Business
Things got off to an inauspicious start for me, as I did not particularly enjoy the first story (and these types of collections often feature the “best” or most well-known story as the opening). I believe it’s supposed to be humorous, featuring a general who has high reformation ideals about mingling with the lower classes and “elevating” them while also expressing he believes in everyone’s shared humanity; his ideals don’t play out as he imagines, however, as when he crashes his subordinate’s wedding, he generally makes a mess of things and costs the poor man money he can’t afford. I get the general message, but I don’t think it’s as hard-hitting in modern-day America as I must assume it was in Russia in Dostoevsky’s day. I didn’t laugh, and I didn’t feel as if it really offered me a keen and piercing insight into anything I wanted to ponder more.
2. Conversations in a Graveyard
The second story I found much more entertaining. I was a little wary of the initial paragraphs, as they feature a narrator discussing how awesome he is even though no one appreciates it and then explaining that he felt into pondering the nature of astonishment, and I felt that I was simply in for one of those classic stories that is simply the protagonist sharing their philosophical musings, without much of an actual plot. I was wrong! This story has a bit of the supernatural, features a range of wild and slightly shocking characters in a short pace, and even got me thinking about death and what I would do if I found out I had a little “more time” after death (or what anyone would do, or what they perhaps “should” do). Definitely a winner of a short story.
3. A Meek Creature
The third story is interesting, featuring a narrator who is relating the events of his life after he comes home to find she has killed herself. The reader gets inside his head and can see where he is kind of lying to himself and how he was abusive in ways he didn’t recognize or didn’t want to, but it’s not all black and white, and the ending can make the reader wonder whether things might have been on the verge of improving before the unfortunate suicide.
4. The Crocodile
A story about a guy who is swallowed whole by a crocodile on exhibit in a museum. It’s deliciously absurd because only the narrator acts as one would expect 99% of people to react to this event: with horror and great anxiety to find a way to free the unfortunate man. Everyone else reacts unexpectedly. I enjoyed it.
5. The Heavenly Christmas Tree
Incredibly short and really depressing story about a boy whose mother dies around Christmas and wanders about looking for a bit of Christmas magic. I didn’t really see the point of the story, to be honest. And the length of this story and the final one was off-putting to me; the stories seem like afterthoughts in this collection.
6. The Peasant Marey
This one is also short and unremarkable, the narrator remembering a semi-insignificant event from his childhood that somehow holds significance for him. I found it an anti-climatic conclusion to the collection.
The wellsprings of desire and the impediments to love come brilliantly into focus in Evelyn Waugh’s masterpiece — a novel that immerses us in the glittering and seductive world of English aristocracy in the waning days of the empire.
Through the story of Charles Ryder’s entanglement with the Flytes, a great Catholic family, Evelyn Waugh charts the passing of the privileged world he knew in his own youth and vividly recalls the sensuous pleasures denied him by wartime austerities.
At once romantic, sensuous, comic, and somber, Brideshead Revisited transcends Waugh’s early satiric explorations and reveals him to be an elegiac, lyrical novelist of the utmost feeling and lucidity.
Review
Brideshead Revisited is one of those books where the publisher’s summary has come to be about themes rather than plot. According to my copy, the book is about “the passing of the privileged world” before and during WWII. Personally, I find there IS a lot thematically to unpack. I can imagine writing several academic papers about it in a college class. As a casual read I intend to read just once and move on from, however, I was underwhelmed.
If there is a plot, it is how protagonist Charles Ryder befriends Sebastian Flyte at Oxford and subsequently becomes entangled with the entire Flyte family, which is exactly what Sebastian had feared. Because the start of the book is so focused on Charles and Sebastian, I had thought it was going the route of A Separate Peace, exploring an obsessive male friendship with dark undertones, and I was somewhat disappointed to find that was not the case. The book eventually becomes focused on the character I would consider the least interesting of the Flyte family, which makes the book lose some of its momentum.
Besides the themes of decaying decadence, I did notice the book’s obsession with Catholicism, unusual for most of the English classics I have read. We see the religion largely through Charles’s eyes, who is agnostic but seems politely disinterested until he realizes religion might lead the Flytes to do things he doesn’t wish them to do. We also see ot through several of the Flytes’s eyes, whose opinions and devotion vary. Overall, I quite enjoyed the depiction of a family who is somewhat set apart for having the “wrong” religion for the elite but continue on anyway. even if others don’t understand.
I am happy I read the book, and I think it has it’s moments, but i wouldn’t call it gripping or even particularly insightful in many instances.
Goodreads: The Phantom of the Opera Series: None Age Category: Adult Source: Purchased Published:
Official Summary
First published in French as a serial in 1909, “The Phantom of the Opera” is a riveting story that revolves around the young, Swedish Christine Daaé. Her father, a famous musician, dies, and she is raised in the Paris Opera House with his dying promise of a protective angel of music to guide her. After a time at the opera house, she begins hearing a voice, who eventually teaches her how to sing beautifully. All goes well until Christine’s childhood friend Raoul comes to visit his parents, who are patrons of the opera, and he sees Christine when she begins successfully singing on the stage. The voice, who is the deformed, murderous ‘ghost’ of the opera house named Erik, however, grows violent in his terrible jealousy, until Christine suddenly disappears. The phantom is in love, but it can only spell disaster. Leroux’s work, with characters ranging from the spoiled prima donna Carlotta to the mysterious Persian from Erik’s past, has been immortalized by memorable adaptations. Despite this, it remains a remarkable piece of Gothic horror literature in and of itself, deeper and darker than any version that follows.
Review
I’m not sure why I never read The Phantom of the Opera earlier in my life. I think I had the vague idea the book isn’t as good as the movie and that it’s an epistolary novel–neither of which are true. In fact, the novel is a riveting account of how a single warped yet genius man brings an entire Opera House to its knees, yet still earns the pity of one of its most talented singers.
The story is enthralling. Even if I thought the action lagged a bit here and there, it always picked up again, and I kept turning the pages. The Opera Ghost is a mastermind in this version, not a romantic hero, and the machinations he dreams up to win Christine and thwart the men trying to save her are creative and cruel. I was truly scared reading a couple of the scenes.
Christine isn’t necessarily lovable as a character. She’s a bit naïve for my taste. Though her love for her father is charming, and her willingness to see the good in others around her. I didn’t feel a let of chemistry between her and Raoul, but it’s not really the point of the story. I was intrigued that their class differences are such a big part of the novel, and their ending is not 100% happy because of them.
I enjoyed this classic read much more than I had anticipated, and it’s definitely a good choice for reading in autumn to get some spooky vibes.
Classic Remarks is a meme hosted here at Pages Unbound that poses questions each Friday about classic literature and asks participants to engage in ongoing discussions surrounding not only themes in the novels but also questions about canon formation, the “timelessness” of literature, and modes of interpretation.
HOW CAN I PARTICIPATE?
Leave your link to your post on your own blog in the comments below. And feel free to comment with your thoughts even if you are not officially participating with a full post!
(Readers who like past prompts but missed them have also answered them on their blog later and linked back to us at Pages Unbound, so feel free to do that, too!)
THIS WEEK’S PROMPT:
Why do you think Anne of Green Gables still speaks to contemporary readers?
Although L. M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables is set in the late 1800s on Prince Edward Island, I believe it speaks to readers today, readers from around the world and all walks of life, because many of the themes and Anne’s life experiences are, at their core, universal. While readers may never be an orphan or live on a farm or attend a one-room school or do half the things Anne does, her childhood struggles to make sense of world, fit in with others, and navigate relationships with others are things that readers can continue to understand and empathize with.
I’ve always thought Montgomery as a writer has a keen understanding of how it feels to be a child, and that understanding is what helps her characters come alive. One of the earlier scenes in Anne of Green Gables, for instance, involves Mrs. Rachel Lynde looking at Anne and calling her, straight to her face, homely. Mrs. Lynde hits on a particularly touchy point when she mentions Anne’s red hair, which Anne has never liked (and who can’t relate to having something about one’s appearance that one wishes to change?), but the heart of the matter — which Anne points out — is that these are cruel things Mrs. Lynde would never have said to another adult. Adults are worthy of respect; one might comment on a lady’s ugliness behind closed doors, but would never walk up to and tell her point blank that she isn’t pretty. Because Anne is a child, however, Mrs. Lynde, and initially Marilla, think they can say and do what they like to her; she’s not human enough to deserve the kindness and tact that adults do. THESE are the kinds of scenes that I think continue to speak to readers today, as readers can reflect on the times they were treated as less than simply because they were child and not adults.
Montgomery also skillfully conveys “little” issues that loom large to children. For instance, Anne has always hankered after the “puffed sleeves” that are in fashion in her day, but Marilla insists in dressing her in plain, sensible clothes. Anne is fairly good-natured about this and mostly limits herself to wistfully wishing for a more fashionable dress, but the feeling of wanting trendier clothing that one’s family can’t afford or one’s parents simply will not buy is relatable. (And Montgomery takes the theme even farther in Emily of New Moon, when Emily’s aunts force her to wear out-of-date and overly formal clothing to school, which makes her stand out and get mocked, prompting her to attempt to switch out the garments for something else on the way to school. I don’t know about other people, but I have vivid memories of being forced to wear ridiculous clothing by my parents because they thought it was the correct thing for the occasion, when it certainly was NOT. I can never read this scene without having flashbacks to some of the horrid, ridicule-inviting things I was forced to wear.)
These are the moments I think speak to readers today, Anne’s experience as a child and how that’s filled with innocence and wonder and possibility but also mistakes and punishments and bullying and disdain from some adults. I always say the book isn’t really about anything; it’s just about Anne’s life. But that’s what makes it inviting and timeless, what lets us see the little moments of our own lives in the little moments of Anne’s.
Classic Remarks is a meme hosted here at Pages Unbound that poses questions each Friday about classic literature and asks participants to engage in ongoing discussions surrounding not only themes in the novels but also questions about canon formation, the “timelessness” of literature, and modes of interpretation.
HOW CAN I PARTICIPATE?
Leave your link to your post on your own blog in the comments below. And feel free to comment with your thoughts even if you are not officially participating with a full post!
(Readers who like past prompts but missed them have also answered them on their blog later and linked back to us at Pages Unbound, so feel free to do that, too!)
THIS WEEK’S PROMPT:
Recommend a Diverse Classic
Zora Neale Hurston was both an author and a folklorist, whose research influenced many of her writings. Her best known novel is perhaps Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937), which centers on Janie Crawford and her three marriages. Janie’s tale recounts how she initially was married off to an older man for protection, only to find that he doesn’t love her. She then runs off with another man, who only wants to use her. Finally, she marries for love, but again finds her relationship with her husband to be unstable. Through her three marriages, Janie (and Hurston) explore the gender roles and the expectations society places on women.
Though published in the 1930s, Their Eyes Were Watching God still feels incredibly relevant. The issues it grapples with, from domestic violence to the role of men and women in marriage are issues that society continues to grapple with. In many ways, the novel feels a bit ahead of its time, with Janie seeking love and self-fulfillment, while being open to her own sexuality, in the face of a disapproving society. The book, however, presents no easy answers. While Janie’s third marriage appears to be her happiest, because her husband Tea Cake sees her as more of an equal than her previous two husbands, the novel also suggests that Janie is not fully realized as an independent woman until after Tea Cake’s death. In this way, Their Eyes Were Watching God illustrates an intriguing tension that many readers may find relatable. Janie wants to find her identity in a happy marriage, but, if she cannot be seen as an equal to men, she may ultimately not be able to do so. She wants both love and respect, but can women truly have it all?
Their Eyes Were Watching God is a powerful novel by a talented author–one whose work was not always appreciated in her own time. If you have not read it yet, maybe now is the time to give it a try.
Classic Remarks is a meme hosted here at Pages Unbound that poses questions each Friday about classic literature and asks participants to engage in ongoing discussions surrounding not only themes in the novels but also questions about canon formation, the “timelessness” of literature, and modes of interpretation.
HOW CAN I PARTICIPATE?
Leave your link to your post on your own blog in the comments below. And feel free to comment with your thoughts even if you are not officially participating with a full post!
(Readers who like past prompts but missed them have also answered them on their blog later and linked back to us at Pages Unbound, so feel free to do that, too!)
THIS WEEK’S PROMPT:
Recommend a classic from the Middle Ages.
The Obvious
Let’s get the obvious out of the way. If you know very little about medieval literature, you’re probably familiar with The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer, King Arthur, and Robin Hood. All of these I do, in fact, recommend, although I admit it took me a while personally to warm up to The Canterbury Tales and appreciate them, and I literally studied medieval literature in grad school. So they’re worth reading, but you don’t have to start there, and I wouldn’t sweat it if they’re not your thing. Also, there is the small problem that there isn’t really an original/definitive King Arthur OR Robin Hood tale. There are just a lot of stories from different authors and years during the Middle Ages, so if you’re interested in these things, you have a lot to choose from. Have at it. (The more obscure the stories are, however, the less likely there will be a modern English translation of it.)
For King Arthur (and his knights) stories, check out:
Silence is the story of a girl who is secretly raised as a boy because the king has decreed that women can no longer inherit, and her parents want her to have their estate after they die. Silence wrestles with her identity throughout the story, knowing she has the body of a woman but recognizing that she acts like a man and enjoys playing a male role in society. Nature and Nurture get into some heated arguments over what makes someone’s gender.
A collection of twelve short stories recorded by Marie de France and translated into prose. The stories are classic lais Marie heard told during her lifetime, often featuring brave knights, lovely ladies, and a bit of magic.
An 11th century epic poem that takes place during the reign of Charlemagne. It tells the story of Roland, who is guarding Charlemagne’s rear as the army departs Spain, how his stepfather betrays Charlemagne and the Franks, and how he pridefully refuses to call for aid as he and his party become overwhelmed by enemy forces.
Troilus and Criseyde by Geoffrey Chaucer
A classic love story that has been told and retold (Shakespeare wrote a play, too), featuring star-crossed lovers during the Siege of Troy. If you thought Chaucer only wrote The Canterbury Tales, you’ll be pleased and surprised by the nuance with which he tells the story of Troilus and Cressida and how they fall in love and experience tragedy.
Amis and Amiloun
In this medieval romance, two knights (unrelated but very similar in appearance) swear a troth plight to be true to each other in wrong or right. The ethicalness of this oath comes into question when Amiloun agrees to fight as Amis in a trial by combat—where Amis is clearly in the wrong and deserves to lose. As a result of his decision, Amiloun is struck with leprosy, but is this a punishment from God or simply a trial he is willing to endure for his love of Amis? And is there anything Amis can do to repay him?
Classic Remarks is a meme hosted here at Pages Unbound that poses questions each Friday about classic literature and asks participants to engage in ongoing discussions surrounding not only themes in the novels but also questions about canon formation, the “timelessness” of literature, and modes of interpretation.
HOW CAN I PARTICIPATE?
Leave your link to your post on your own blog in the comments below. And feel free to comment with your thoughts even if you are not officially participating with a full post!
(Readers who like past prompts but missed them have also answered them on their blog later and linked back to us at Pages Unbound, so feel free to do that, too!)
THIS WEEK’S PROMPT:
Is there a classic book you just “didn’t get?”
Despite my love of classics, there are a number didn’t really “get” (at least until I went to a class discussion about them and could begin to see what other readers were getting out of the book!), but my mind really blanked at coming up with specific titles when I saw the prompt for this week.
In a stroke of genius, I decided to go to my Goodreads shelves and see what classics I had given low star ratings to. The only problem: many of these I read ten years ago or more, and I don’t think I remember enough about them to say why I didn’t like them or what I didn’t get about them! (Though I did actually write a review of The Turn of the Screw for the blog, and I think I “get” Brave New World; I just don’t like it.)
With all that in mind, I’m officially going with:
Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
Unfortunately I don’t seem to have written a review of Madame Bovary, which would be helpful in refreshing my thoughts because I read it in 2013. However, personally I’m just not a fan of that genre of novel that (perhaps reductively) could be called: wealthy woman becomes unhappy in her marriage and starts taking lovers and…readers are supposed to be sympathetic to that? I’m not a big fan of Lady Chatterley’s Lover by D. H. Lawrence or The Awakening by Kate Chopin for similar reasons.
I suppose there’s an argument that, in the past, women were stuck in unhappy marriages, if divorce was not an option, and that makes infidelity more forgivable than if they could leave their husbands and pursue new prospects that way. Even with that in mind, I’ve never been on board with books about adultery, especially in instances where the woman isn’t really being treated badly but has just never been truly in love with or excited by her husband.
Madame Bovary really focuses on that point, that Madame Bovary is experiencing ennui. This means 1) it’s hard to feel that she’s doing the “right” thing or “doesn’t have other options” when she cheats because she’s just bored! and 2) the book is kind of boring because it focuses on how boring the life of the protagonist is. I felt as if I were listlessly drifting through the whole book, not as if I were reading anything interesting.
Even if one argues we’re not supposed to sympathize with Madame Bovary, I don’t get the appeal of the book. So Flaubert is just portraying a bored immoral woman and asking us to ponder how bored and immoral she is? I’ll pass, thanks.
Have you read Madame Bovary? What did you think?
Summary of the Dover version of Madame Bovary:
Bored and unhappy in a lifeless marriage, Emma Bovary yearns to escape from the dull circumstances of provincial life. Married to a simple-minded but indulgent country doctor, she takes one lover, then another, hastens her husband’s financial ruin with her extravagance…
Gustave Flaubert (1821-1888) was brought to trial by the French government on the grounds of the novel’s alleged immorality, but unlike his less fortunate contemporary, Baudelaire, he narrowly escaped conviction.
Falubert’s powerful and deeply moving examination of the moral degeneration of a middle-class Frenchwoman is universally regarded as one of the landmarks of 19th-century fiction. It is reproduced here, complete and unabridged, in the classic translation by Eleanor Marx-Aveling, daughter of Karl Marx.
The classics cannot seem to catch a break these days. Some people argue that the classics are simply too old and boring for anyone to want to read, let alone a student. In fact, I once heard a librarian say that suggesting a child read a classic book would be to “traumatize” them because of the difficulty of the text! Others argue that having a list of “classic” books is naturally oppressive because the list has long included mostly “old, dead white men” and the books do not present an inclusive understanding of the world and humanity.
Such criticisms are valid. Many students in the U.S. are not reading on grade level, so suggesting they read a book with complex text might indeed be overwhelming for them–though I would argue that the problem here lies more with the educational system than with any particular book. And, for many years, society’s understanding of classics has indeed included predominantly old white men.
However, in the past decades, many scholars and other individuals have worked hard to expand our understanding of what a “classic” is. In many cases, this simply means an older work that has been determined to have some sort of literary value that means audiences still are interested in reading it and publishers want to keep it in print. This is a vague concept that could include any number of titles for any number of reasons such as: the book speaks to a specific historical moment, the book exemplifies a particular writing philosophy or movement, the book has beautiful prose, or the book raises interesting questions about the nature of humanity, society, love, or anything else. With such a broad definition, classic books can include titles written for children, genre fiction, prose, poetry, plays, and, yes, diversity!
So why do so many readers continue to associate classics with stuffy old white men with difficult prose (Dickens, Hawthorne, or Shakespeare, for example)? The problem is that many people tend to read classics in school, when they are assigned these books for homework, and never again. Their one encounter with the classics is defined by a handful of teachers who present to them a very small sample of books. And, in many cases, teachers are simply teaching what they themselves were taught. They have not caught up with the times, or realized themselves that the term “classic” is more expansive than the Western canon.
This does a disservice both to readers and to the classics. There are many worthy–and interesting–books out there that might appeal to student who have no idea they could like the classics, if they found the right one. So let’s explore some examples.
Classics include all age ranges.
When people think of “classics,” they often seem to conjure up an image of the Victorian novel or perhaps of the dreaded Shakespeare. However, teachers might be interested in assigning children’s books to students rather than works written for an adult audience. There are plenty of children’s classics that readers continue to enjoy today:
Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
The Watsons Go to Birmingham by Christopher Paul Curtis
The Birchbark House by Louise Erdrich
The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis
Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery
Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild
Classics encompass all genres.
People tend to associate classics with literary fiction. However, there are plenty of genre classics that readers continue to enjoy today! Here are some examples, including some authors and titles we might now recognize as “modern classics”:
Fantasy Classics
The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien
The Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum
Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. LeGuin
Alanna: The First Adventure by Tamora Pierce
Mystery Classics
Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Father Brown by G. K. Chesterton
Miss Marple series by Agatha Christie
Nancy Drew series by Carolyn Keene
Sci-Fi Classics
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
Patternist series by Octavia E. Butler
The Blazing World by Margaret Cavendish
Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
1984 by George Orwell
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
The Time Machine by H. G. Wells
Classics cover a wide range of time periods, writing styles, and forms.
Not all classics are Victorian novels like Middlemarch or Bleak House (though both are well worth a read). Readers who do not wish to read a novel might wish to pick up a short story, a novella, a play or even a graphic novel. Likewise, readers who do not enjoy lengthy prose sentences such as Dickens’ may desire to pick up a writer like Ernest Hemingway, who writes in simple, direct sentences. No matter one’s reading preference, someone, somewhere in history probably wrote something that will be appealing. Some examples:
“Sonny’s Blues” by James Baldwin (short story)
The Awakening by Kate Chopin (novella)
Corduroy by Don Freeman (picture book)
“Recitatif” by Toni Morrison (short story)
Maus by Art Spiegelman (graphic novel)
Night by Elie Wiesel (memoir)
Classics can be diverse!
Despite what school curricula might imply, there are plenty of amazing literary works out there that have been written by all kinds of people and that represent a myriad of experiences, expanding our understanding of “what it means to be human.” Here are some titles for your consideration, including some modern classics.
The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende
Bless Me, Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya
The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin
Kindred by Octavia Butler
The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros
Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison
Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez
Brown Girl, Brownstones by Paule Marshall
Beloved by Toni Morrison
The Chosen by Chaim Potok
The Color Purple by Alice Walker
What titles would you add to the list?
Conclusion
Classics are so much more than Victorian novels, Shakespeare plays, and books by “old white men,” but, for many of us, high school, the one place where we will be asked to read a classic book, fails to demonstrate this. This does a disservice to readers, who graduate believing that the past has nothing to offer and that any book written more than five years ago must be old, boring, and outdated. So don’t rely only what you learned in a handful of English classes to judge all the classics. Why not pick up a few more and see for yourself?
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