What Your Bookshelf Really Means:

This week, while browsing Borders for my outside reading selection, I considered the various genres available: fiction, non-fiction, mystery and thriller, young adult, self-help, relationships, religious studies, etc. Then, as I was checking out, a good-ol'-boy type of man approached the cashier, asking if they had any books written by a romance novelist. I was shocked.

Turns out, he was looking for his girlfriend (who had already found the book she was searching for a few rows over), but I contemplated my prejudice. I believe people's literature define them; personally, I have an entire row on my bookshelf devoted to books I feel most accurately reflect my heart and mind. My favorite books dissect the deepest truths of humanity; in my constant strive for truth and intimacy, literature has satisfied me with what I fail to receive from reality.

(Side note: I sound as if I'm oozing with teenage angst; sorry about that. I really feel fine, and I apologize if this blog comes across as some melodramatic "the world hates me, and the only things that loves me are my books" crap.)

So, Constant Reader (guess which author I chose for outside reading!), what's your favorite book, and what does it say about you?



"Sometimes, I read a book, and I think I am the people in the book." -Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

"We Read Stuff" by A.P. Student

"We Real Cool" by Gwendolyn Brooks


We real cool. We
Left school. We


Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We


Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We


Jazz June. We
Die soon.

"We Old Dudes" by Joan Murray

We old dudes. We

White shoes. We

Golf ball. We

Eat mall. We

Soak teeth. We

Palm Beach; We

Vote red. We

Soon dead.

I took the juxtaposition of these two poems as someone looking back on their

Life. I think he (whoever "he" is) was a troublemaker as a kid, but now he's just an lame old

Dude. (Yes, "vote red" was a factor in deciding the guy was 

Lame.) It makes you question how you'll look back on

Things. (I, for one, think I'll grow up to be about the same person I am now, but who

Knows?) However, I think it was interesting that I ended up analyzing Bedford more than the

Poems. Had Bedford placed them in separate chapters, I would have never achieved the full

Effect. I suppose the book would be pretty unhelpful otherwise.

Lastly, I have found a new appreciation for the authors' style because it is incredibly annoying to immitate.

Oh, the situational irony.

I enjoyed the irony this week while we were editing someone else's opinion on bias.

I also explored the types of conflict during my tennis matches. (Man vs. Man- my opponent. Man vs. Weather- the random wind and rain. Man vs. Self- my increasingly irritated thoughts with my opponent, the wind, and the rain.)

I also contemplated symbolism of everyday things, graphed the three-act structure of my weekend, and thoroughly considered what my thoughts would look like if they had a font.

Literature is no longer simply part of my life; my life is simply part of literature. Technically, we didn't discuss the takeover of literary analysis in class--more so, I've been discussing class with myself all week.

Throughout your day, just see how quickly your thoughts are consumed and modeled around the techniques which weigh down our backpacks in 4.3 pounds of pure Bedford.


Though this blog is short, I feel it's sufficient. I've already written enough this week.


“Literature adds to reality, it does not simply describe it. It enriches the necessary competencies that daily life requires and provides; and in this respect, it irrigates the deserts that our lives have already become.”
-C.S. Lewis

Your Perspective Sucks, But I Respect It

I've read "The Story of an Hour" before. In fact, I read it just last year. However, I never once read the story from a different perspective.

In Kate Chopin's "The Story of an Hour," the author reveals the protagonist as a young woman who believes she has just become a widow. After initial shock, her overwhelming joy of freedom was quickly contrasted by her husband's return home and her heart failure. I read the story of an oppressive husband, smothering his poor wife and stifling her rights as an individual.

However, in class, there was quite a debate over who the true victim was: the husband or wife. The battle was evenly matched (boys vs. girls) and quickly became heated. Though I wouldn't say the men of second period changed my mind, I will admit I had a cheesy Veggie Tale-esque learning experience.

We've always been told to respect other people's opinions, but, honestly, I think humans (or maybe just "I") naturally struggle at it. I was raised by a sweet-hearted mother, who fervently preaches open-mindedness, and an egocentric father, whose favorite phrase is "moral superiority". With that strange combination, I wholeheartedly respect other point of views but hardly ever bend my ways. In Poisonwood Bible, I often wanted to skip Rachel's chapters because she frustrated me so much. She was oblivious to her surroundings and ignorant of true beauty and had an annoyingly incorrect vocabulary. However, (here comes the moral of the story) I knew that, had I ignored Rachel's thoughts and feelings, I would have never understood the full truth.

To summarize, in life and in storytelling, you must consider and respect all points of view in order to fully uncover the truth. It may be easier to assume Chopin's protagonist is the victim of a cruel relationship, but, in doing so, we forget to pity the man whom was never really loved.

Luke Skywalker: Why didn't you tell me? You told me Vader betrayed and murdered my father.
Obi-Wan Kanobe: Your father... was seduced by the Dark Side of the Force. He ceased to be Anakin Skywalker and became Darth Vader. When that happened, the good man who was your father was destroyed. So what I told you was true... from a certain point of view.
-Star Wars: Episode VI - Return of the Jedi