There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away
Nor any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry--
This Traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of Toll--
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears the Human Soul--

-Emily Dickinson


November, 2010. This is when I had an epiphany that I knew nothing about literature. What exactly prompted this revelation, I don't remember. But what I did after that was print off "BBC's Top 100 Books" list in order to expand my horizons. (Although I'm aware that there are plenty of books omitted from the list, as well as new books constantly being published, this is intended simply to help me be acquainted with literature.) I challenged myself to read all of the books on the list. One year later, I've realized it will take much longer than expected. With only 7 of the 100 books read, this task seems daunting and unrealistic. While some may think it's somewhat masochistic, some may think it's an admirable goal. I guess it depends on the book I'm reading. Frequently I'll read a book that is not on this long list. I used to apologize for it, but I'm assuming hardly anyone reads it anyways.

I started by critiquing the books and authors, but the purpose for writing has changed over the years. The purpose of this blog isn't necessarily to write reviews for the benefit of high school procrastinators or for eagerly researching book-readers or for really anyone besides me. It's a documentation of my own progress as a learner and a reader, as well as being wonderfully cathartic. Books elicit an emotional response, which allows me to explore my own beliefs about life and spirituality.

As of Sunday, June 21st, 2015, I have read twenty-six books on the list. This is hopefully subject to change, and will be updated regularly...or more accurately, as regularly as I finish a book, which isn't always regular.


Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Station Eleven - Emily St. John Mandel

Read on December 30th, 2015.

In today's world, there are so many books and shows and movies that originality is scarce. Most fiction that we consume can be likened to another work we have experienced in the past. Authors write books with stereotypes, typical banalities, and trite literary figures. Thus, when there finally is an original book, it is imperative to commend it on its mere uniqueness. Station Eleven is one such book.

The poetic force that accompanies this book was not apparent when I initially began reading. I rolled my eyes and lamented the recently overused post-apocalyptic setting. To my delight, I was wrong. In other books I can see this setting as a plot device to illustrate the concept of survival. However, in Station Eleven, the world, deplete of electricity, transportation, and communication that we as a society depend so heavily on, offers a perspective on how to cope in life without those advantages. Void of those distractions, these people are left only with their passions. It was amazing to see how different people were able to accept the new world and move on from the past. A traveling symphony, carting around barren Michigan performing music and Shakespeare, with Survival is Insufficient written on its caravan. A man starting a new life as a doctor, finding purpose in helping others and raising his new family. Another finding comfort and peace in curating the Museum of Civilization, established in the ruins of an airport. We also see a vastly different and inhumane approach to coping: a prophet, roaming the land with his followers, taking advantage of those around him, murdering, raping, tyrannizing. 

The singular message that rings within my head is that I choose who I am. The depressed and thrice-divorced actor chose his life of pursuing fame and fortune. The young Shakespearean actor chose her life of pursuing meaning and purpose. The prophet, having seen so many horrors of the lawless world, chose to embrace the darkness and search for power. Many others, having seen so many of the same things, chose to rebuild in communities, however minutely they could. I have the choice to choose what I want out of my life. What do you choose?
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