Throughout my lifetime, I've probably read over a thousand books. No romance novels or tashy pulp fiction. I think back to some of the books that left a heavy impression on me. "The Jungle", by Upton Sinclair, "The Grapes of Wrath" by John Steinbeck (I continue to be a fan of his work - read "East of Eden" twice - marvelous work), "The Sea Wolf"by Jack London. Of modern writers only a few stand out. Daniel Silva's spy novels were a companion on transoceanic flights. Phillip Kerr's WWII Bernie Gunther series is heavy but insightful - the language is a bit too coarse for me at times. And of course there are histories of the Civil War, the Middle Ages (Barbara Tuchman's book "The calamitous 14th century" was outstanding.) Biographies - Oppenheimer, Netanyahu, FDR, Lewis and Clark, Golda Meier and more. So much reading, so much learning. Augustine's "City of God" and Charnocks' "The existence and attributes of God" - banquets for the soul.
So the question I've often pondered is: How do books shape us?
One of the interesting things about a book is its ability to transport us to another time, and yet, we find so much in common with the protagonist we're stunned the book was written long ago. In other words, human nature is human nature, across geography and across time. People are people with the same desires, sadness, heartbreak, ecstasies and accomplishments as people in the 21st Century.
Another thing books do is fill our souls. The words are only ink on paper, but somehow, they transform into meaning, and not just constructed meaning. The fact that many people can read the same book and experience the same thing is evidence of common human experience in individuals. Whether is it character development like Danny in "The Chosen" or Ahab in "Moby Dick" we experience them, and they matter to us. The bullfighting scene in Michener's "Mexico" took my breath away as a bull gored a matador. I will never be in a bullfighting stadium, but I have felt some of the intensity, through some ink on a page. Or feel the freezing cold of "To build a fire" by Jack London.
We will never remember all the words of all the books. It's not possible. But we are changed by characters good and evil, by settings terrible and wonderful, by plots straightforward and tangled.
And, best of all, books are not an extravagance. I once spent 25 cents at a rummage sale to buy "Trinity" by Leon Uris. Within moments I was transported to a wake in Ireland and for the next several days I was educated and moved by the story. All for a quarter.
I will never forget Kilty Larkin.
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