Of late I’ve mentioned reading “the classics.” This is one of my Genre Jumps, where I pick a genre I normally would not read – like Westerns or Christian fiction or children’s books – and read 5-10 classics of the genre. This can be a lot of fun and it can really open your eyes by purposefully diverting yourself down avenues of thought you normally avoid.
A Genre Jump of the classics is a bit easier in that they’re all classics so it makes book selection easy. No research here! I just read the titles that come to mind. I’ve also decided not to torture myself. If I don’t like a book, I dump it. Here’s where I’ve been so far, roughly in the order I was reading them in:
East of Eden by John Steinbeck. — Loved it. Steinbeck took material from one of Western culture’s primordial source materials, the bible, and over-wrote it with a tale of an American family seeking their fortunes in California. Good story exceptionally well told.
Billy Budd by Herman Melville. — Dog. I was expecting a sea novel along the lines of Mutiny on the Bounty but Billy Budd was so horribly boring that at page 36 I gave up and called it a day on Mr Melville.
Winter of Our Discontent by John Steinbeck. – Dog. I read about half of this before determining that I had already figured out the moral of the story down to the punction marks. Not one of his better efforts. How come this phrase has so deeply entrenched itself in American English? Did he get it from someone else?
Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry by Mildred D. Taylor. — This is one of those books I’m supposed to like. Why do I feel like such a traitor for finding this book a trite political exercise that did not have black characters I found believable? Every page was one stereotype after another. Stereotypes of how adults think and act, not children. Maybe that’s my problem with it. The children didn’t feel real, they felt like miniature adults acting out the author’s emotions and angers and frustrations from an adult perspective.
Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane. — Just not my style. I can see where this one would be a big draw as a coming of age story for young men but I couldn’t get drawn into the emotion of it. When I realized I was never going to be, I quit reading.
Jane Austen and the Brontes. OK. I have never read anything by any of them. I pick up their books and they feel heavy in my hands. Heavy like if I have to read it I’m going to stick an ice pick through my eye. They made it onto my classics list as I both considered and rejected reading them.
The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde. — Love it. I’m almost finished with this book now and I have really enjoyed it. I’m reading the Barnes and Noble Classics edition which includes literary commentary that has helped my understanding of the book and of Oscar Wilde’s life. The basic story – of a young man who sells his soul for youthful beauty while a portrait of him shows the physical manifestation of both his age and his wicked deeds – is as fascinating now as it was a hundred years ago. Wilde’s wit is sharp and clear and very modern.
Animal Farm by George Orwell. — Yup, believe it. I’ve never read Animal Farm to this point. I just started this book today and will read it quickly. Wow. Orwell is brilliant. I’m also having a much different experience with this book than I would have when I was in high school and fancied myself a socialist. I wish I’d read it when I was 17 to have something to compare it to now.
