10 Books I Didn't "Get" until I Was Older

I started reading almost before I could walk. This isn’t saying much, given that I probably could have walked much sooner but was a lazy youth. I spent most of my time in books, and read whatever I could get my hands on. But just because I could understand the words and the plot, that didn’t mean I was always on point when it came to the more adult content and themes in what I was reading—hence my inability to understand why the nuns in my high school were so incensed to catch me reading Lolita whilst eating a lollipop and wearing my school uniform. It wasn’t the first time or the last that I was caught out as a dedicated but oblivious reader. Here are ten other books I read too early to fully appreciate, oftentimes with hilarious consequences.

1. The Mists Of Avalon, by Marion Zimmer Bradley. I read this Marion Zimmer Bradley retelling of the Arthur legend when I was in sixth grade, and got so into the book that I did a diorama and presentation on it for my classmates. This involved me chirping about Arthur and his sister Morgaine “having coitus,” but clarifying that it was okay because it happened during a sacred Stag ceremony. Ask me if I knew what coitus meant. I did not know what coitus meant. Phone calls were made that day.

2. Lord of the Flies, by William Golding. In a book report that still exists, I proclaimed that Lord of the Flieswas about “Some choirboys in a plane crash,” thus completely missing the end-of-the-world scenario that precludes this amazing novel by William Golding. I guess I assumed they sung in a choir because they were English? I apologize for nothing. Fun fact: I also framed my book report as the island’s newspaper, known as “The Fly Swatter.” A genius in my own mind.

3. The Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka. In this surreal short story by the esteemed Franz Kafka, Gregor Samsa awakes to find, to his abject horror, that overnight he has been turned into an insect. It’s one of the great works of 20th-century fiction, and a harrowing psychodrama. I understood the events without question. What I didn’t understand was that it was not a comedy. That’s right: I could think of nothing, at the age of 10, more humorous than your dad beating you with a cane because overnight you had turned into an insect. I even remember chuckling as I turned the pages.

4. The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald. This popular indictment of the Jazz Age, viewed by many as the highlight of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s tortured career, was lost on me completely. While I correctly viewed Daisy as vapid, I completely missed who Gatsby was as a character. Shaking my head as I moved quickly through the book as a preteen, I kept thinking, “Jeez, guys, cut Gatsby a break! He throws great parties! Daisy should BE so lucky!”

5. Flowers For Algernon, by Daniel Keyes. I did not understand that the man had a low IQ and that it then became a high IQ. I. I really have no way of explaining this. I guess I thought he was just…getting more comfortable in his own skin? I also didn’t understand why the book was named after the rat and not the man. To my credit—I am not proud of this.

6. The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, by C.S. Lewis. I understand absolutely everything about this book. I loved it passionately, and spent more evenings than I would care to recount trying to escape to other lands through various closets, drawers, and once, a laundry basket. That said, the allegorical Christian elements escaped me totally. Because I was a tiny pagan.

7. A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. In many ways this remains one of the scariest books I’ve ever read, and I’ll forever find the saccharine season of Christmas-tide slightly more frightening. It wasn’t until I got to college and the book was presented to me as a text designed to point out the social and economic disparity between the classes that I realized I had missed something. Seriously though, reread it—it’s like Karl Marx telling you a bedtime story.

8. A Tree Grows In Brooklyn, by Betty Smith. One of my favorite books. I recently re-read it and was shocked at just how much I’d repressed: the protagonist being attacked by a man in the stairwell of her building, the boy who refused to stop breast-feeding until his mom drew a face on her breast in order to scare him away. This book is full of shocking tidbits! It’s also the best. I guess my adolescent brain froze out what it could not process.

9. The Scarlet Letter, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. A more boring story of doing the deed has never been written. I understood that Hester had been cast out for doing something untoward, but I thought it was for having her dead husband’s baby. This is a detail I completely made up. Probably to save myself from quietly foaming at the mouth in a feminist rage.

10. Robinson Crusoe, by Daniel Defoe. I read this once as a kid and remembered it fondly as the tale of a shipwrecked man living on an island. When I recently reread it, I was forced to edit my summary. It’s about a shipwrecked racist appropriating a land that doesn’t belong to him, all in the name of White Man’s Burden. Barf.

What books baffled you as a kid?

Francis and the Story that Changed his Life

This is a lovely, not often seen,  view into my mind and the places it wanders. I hope you enjoy.

Francis and the Wonderful Story

The story of a woman who loves nothing and the boy who convinced her otherwise.

                

          One day as poor, lonely Myrna was  meandering down the lane, in search of a stray cat, she happened upon a boy, well I guess you could call him a man if you really wanted to. He was plopped there, on a bench, reading a work of fiction. I happen to not recall this novel; however, for this particular story, which is not about Francis’s reading habits, it is not necessary. Myrna shuffled to a stop directly in front of him, staring at this peculiar boy.  

He slowly raised his head, and with a questioning yet mischievous look in his eyes, he inquired, “May I help you, ma’am?”  

She then continued to stare, but answered, “What is your name, dear child?”

“Francis…, why do you ask?”

“Oh no reason, you just looked like someone I knew once.”

“Uhh Okay.”

“You may call me Myrna if you would like. Would you care to join me for some tea?”

“I guess, if you really want to”

Francis then stood up and followed Myrna to the sidewalk. They proceeded to the coffee shop that was near the park. As they walked in, Myrna requested that Francis go acquire two cups of tea, and Francis turned to leave. A few minutes later, he returned with the steaming cups of tea. He then looked around, noticing the high arch of the ceiling and the floral wall paper, and realized how truly beautiful the building was. Myrna cleared her throat, bringing Francis back to reality.

She then spoke, “I bet you probably just think I’m some strange old bird, inviting some random person to do something with me; however, if you would like to hear it, I would like to tell you a story.”

Francis replied, “I would love to hear a story.”

She began, “Once, there was a young girl. She dreamed of being in love. Of that lovely, mushy feeling one would feel in their heart. Then, she met a boy. And not just any boy, a marine. Those two fell madly in love, and wed on a warm night in July. Oh, it really was a gorgeous wedding, lots of candles, family, and good food. She became pregnant, and they had a baby girl. She was the best thing that had ever happened to either of them, a smart, pretty girl who all the boys were after. She had a real good future. Then, when the girl was fifteen, her momma had another baby, a little boy who was as cute as he was ornery. When the little boy was two, his daddy got sent over-seas. He fought good and hard, but it wasn't enough. Their daddy never came home, leaving his wife with the little money they had and two growing children to take care of. Losing her true love broke the poor woman’s heart, and she became bitter and depressed, confining herself to her room for days, eating nothing, and leaving the poor girl to take care of her little brother. As soon as the girl was old enough, she got married and moved away. Her momma had no idea where she went. The poor boy was left to take care of himself at age five. His mother realized he couldn't  so, in a trance, she would cook and clean and take him to school, yet she never really extended any love to him. When he was seventeen, he followed in his daddy’s footsteps and joined the marines. Their momma just wasted away, always drinking. One day her heart hardened and she no longer cared. She went through the motions and acted like everything was fine. She was lonely, but she survived.”

Myrna then stopped talking, a tear rolling down her cheek. Francis sat there, stunned to silence.

He composed himself and asked, “Was… was that you?”

“Yes, it was. I thought you wouldn't mind hearing it.”

“Of course not, but… Your son. Do you ever hear from him?”

“Not since he was seventeen and riding off in a train.”

“I- I think that I’m your son,” Francis said, stuttering.

Myrna then looked up suddenly, and gasped. She sat there, staring at him.

She answered, “You still look the same, that’s why I was so shocked at the park. I thought you had an uncanny resemblance to him”

“I’ve been looking for you. Ever since I came back from the marines. I went back to our old house, but everything was gone. I was afraid- afraid you had died. But here you are, sitting across the table from me.”

Myrna stood up and whispered, “I have missed you so much.”

The End

The Most Beautiful Things in the Humblest of Places

As a very wise lady also know as Camille Pissarro once said "Blessed are those who see beautiful things in humble places where other people see nothing."

I like to think that beauty is everywhere. It reminds me that even in the worst places, there is still beauty. Art is one way we express beauty, although, as much as we try, we can never fully capture it. We try to form in our minds the standard for beauty, which often is conjoined with power, yet we never truly understand that beauty is a thing of effortlessness, a thing one does not achieve but is simply created as. Believing beauty is this not only causes us to love because we lack jealousy, but also causes us to have a sense of who we are. Today, I challenge you. I challenge you to see beauty everywhere, even in the mirror.

For Your Weekend

To strive to see beauty in every thing is to be beautiful yourself. Therefore, aim for beauty and you will find it.

"Think of all the 

beauty still 

left around you

and be happy"

-Anne Frank

A Leap of Faith

As none of you know, I will be riding in a bus for 14 hours to spend a week sweating my butt off in Birmingham, AL., and to serve as a follower of Jesus Christ. I will be going on this trip with  Metro Changers. While I have never been so excited, I have also never been so nervous and scared. Yesterday evening we spent a few hours at school having bible studies, praying, singing, and spending about an hour huddled in the locker room because of a tornado warning. During bible study, we read in the book of Philippians and Caleb, our chaperon's fully grown son, spoke with us about faith, about how this whole "Christianity thing" is beyond us. And it really got me thinking. Who are we to fear what is ahead? We will NEVER know what is going to happen, ever. Period, end of story. We are not in control. This has nothing to do with me and EVERYTHING to do with Christ. We needn't worry about anything, for we can't do anything about it, so why worry!! I would like to end on this quote from Oswald Chambers: "Faith is  deliberate confidence in  the character of God whose ways you may not understand at the time."

Why am I afraid?

Today as I sit here on my bed reading my latest find, The Great Gatsby, I think to myself: "What's keeping you where you are? What are you afraid of?" Most of us would say we are afraid of change, of bad things, of being different. That is completely not what I would say. I, being strange, am afraid of something good happening. In my life so many things have gone wrong and I have been bitter about those things; if something  were to go completely and one hundred percent right, I would have absolutely no idea how to react. I am afraid. I don't know what is ahead of me. I have no idea how my future is going to pan out. I do know one thing for certain though, I have an all-powerful God that KNOWS for sure that I have a specific path marked out for my future. He knows and because of that I don't have to know. Because of that I don't have to be afraid. I don't have to be worried. I can be confident in the fact that God at his weakest can STILL beat Satan at his strongest, that God will NEVER fail me, that He is always with me. So, today, my dear friends, I encourage you to stop and ask yourself "Why am I afraid?"

Welcome to My Life.

Today, I welcome you into my journey. So far, my story has not been filled with knights in shining armor, though I wish it was, frogs, or evil step-sisters. However, anything could happen. In this wonderful apparatus called a blog, I hope to share my dreams, hopes, failures, successes, loves, and many other things. Most of you will think the following: "Who cares about this chick from Illinois!!" although maybe not in those exact words. However, I hope some of you find hope and inspiration in these words. I will in no way tell you how to live your life, how to clean your house, or how to cook food. I write this for the sole purpose of writing. So, if you want to read it, read it. If not, read something else, for haters are never appreciated.