Books That Changed Me

In the most recent issue of the Webster-Kirkwood Times, the publisher ran a column about the influential books of his youth. Along with the surge of interest in George Orwell’s 1984, it got me thinking. So I am going to list my Top 20 (in alpha order; my youth lasted a little longer than normal, so this list goes into my first few years of teaching) and challenge you to list yours, as well, either annotated or not, as you choose. Just the list is on Facebook (and the chart above), but if you’re interested in why (I think) I made these choices, the reasons are annotated below.

1984............................................................... Geroge Orwell

This dystopian fiction seemed like Sci-Fi when I first read it in the ‘60s. It was my first real introduction to the importance of language and history.

A Doll’s House.............................................. Henrik Ibsen

Other Ibsen plays also resonated, but this one about breaking the (in this case) female stereotype grabbed me.

All Quiet on the Western Front............ Erich Maria Remarque

Oh, the irony and horrors of war.

Candide......................................................... Voltaire

“All is for the best in the best of all possible worlds.” Not so much.

Crime and Punishment............................. Fyodor Dostoyevsky

We all want to think we’re exceptional…. An existential classic.

Hitler: A Study in Tyranny........................... Alan Bullock

I thought it was great history, a brilliant psychological profile of an evil mind.

I’m Okay, You’re Okay................................. Thomas Harris

Pop psychology (a cognitive therapy). Less important in and of itself, but for where the books we read afterwards on transactional analysis (Games People Play, Eric Berne; Born to Win, James and Jongeward) that changed the way we reacted to each other and our daughter. TA has fallen out of favor, and cognitive therapies don’t work for everyone, but they sure helped us navigate some tough years. Still works, IMO.

Invisible Man................................................. Ralph Ellison

Brilliant tale on what it’s like to live outside the norms. Dramatically altered my views on life and race. Life changing.

J.B............................................................. Archibald Macleish

A play, the story of Job, told in verse. Although probably not many churches would approve. “If God is God, he is not good; if God is good, he is not God....” Made me think. A lot. Still.

Les Misérables................................................ Victor Hugo

Yes, we also love the musical, but read the book for its take on social injustice.

Man and Superman........................................ George Bernard Shaw

And many, many other plays by Shaw. Don’t skip the stage directions. The “Don Juan in Hell” scene is worth a read all by itself. If there is a heaven and/or hell, I like Shaw’s take.

Manchild in the Promised Land.................... Claude Brown

Harlem and heroin (Brown described its power that we’re witnessing today) 50 years ago. More insight on race.

Red Badge of Courage.................................... Stephen Crane

The horrors of war and combat. What we think we will do and what we do seldom jibe.

Skin of Our Teeth.......................................... Thorton Wilder

I like all of Wilder’s plays, but this is my favorite. History and future of human-kind. Still works.

Stranger in a Strange Land............................ Robert Heinlein

The sci-fi classic is more about society than science. This is one I want to revisit.

Sybil............................................................... Flora Schreiber

Although an extreme case, taught me that not all mothers are deserving of love and honor. We must recognize them as the flawed beings they sometimes are.

The Crucible.................................................. Arthur Miller

This allegory of the McCarthy Communist Witchhunt still gives pause. Could it happen again? You betcha!

The Martian Chronicles................................. Ray Bradbury

Especially “The Martian.” Find this if nothing else. What happens when you try to please everyone.

The Ugly American................................. Burdick and Lederer

As a teen-aged expat, this book about our diplomatic failures in Vietnam offered lessons on how we were being perceived by others. Given credit for being an impetus to the founding of the Peace Corps. First introduction to the Law of Unintended Consequences.

The Way It Spozed To Be............................. James Herndon

Should still be required reading for every young teacher and teacher to be. You have to teach who you are, not who you’re “spozed to be.” Also hilarious.

To Kill a Mockingbird................................... Harper Lee

Because it was the first “real” piece of literature that I read on my own (chalk this one up as an example of positive peer pressure). Fortunately, I liked it.

Yes, I know there are 21 here. I had to add one as I wrote this and didn’t want to take any out. Bonus points if you can figure out which one is the interloper.

Don't Put Me In Coach; I'm Not Ready to Play

Ain’t no point in talkin’ when there’s nobody listenin’ so I’ll just stand aside  (apologies to Rod Stewart, Young Turks”)

I have avoided posting or sharing anything critical of President Trump for some time now. I do continue to read and react (mostly privately) to information I encounter in the media, both social and traditional (yes, I read magazines, newspapers, listen to the radio, even watch the occasional television news). After researching sources, I have also posted, and will continue to post, counterpoints to the simplistic memes and blatantly prejudiced and one-sided pieces that violate “the stink test,” as well as those that are either factually inaccurate or conveniently selective in the facts presented.

Nevertheless, I am refraining from joining the chorus of critics on social media. It’s not because I have any confidence in the President, or that I believe he has suddenly become a better person (see R•E•S•P•E•C•T); I do not. However, it’s not a fine line between singing in the choir or just waiting and watching, and until I can bring something to party other than other people’s chips and dip (tweets and shares), I am satisfied to not RSVP. When I do show up to the party (and it’s almost a dead certainty that I will, at some point), it likely will be with a dish (blog post) of my own creation, not something I found in the aisles of the internet.

The anti-Trump choir already has plenty of members; it doesn’t need another monotone to amplify the volume. I respect those who feel the need to speak out, to march, to protest in any number of ways. It is not just their right, but their duty. Perhaps I am even shirking that duty and abrogating my rights by sitting quietly (well, relatively quietly) on the sidelines, at least for the time being. Perhaps the voices are making a difference. If you believe the polls, Mr. Trump has the lowest approval rating in history, or at least since Abraham Lincoln. Therein lies the problem, however.

Mr. Trump’s supporters don’t believe the polls. They justify that stance by (correctly) pointing out that the polls also predicted an election day defeat, and, yet, here he is, the duly elected, 45th president of the United States. I could argue that the biggest positive to come out of this election is a healthy skepticism of polls. I might further argue that reliance on those polls might have cost Secretary Clinton the election. Next time people might actually think it important to vote, like Mr. Trump’s supporters (or Mrs. Clinton’s haters) did.

I am also striving, mightily and some would no doubt say with limited success, to be better than those who never gave President Obama a fair chance, including virtually every Republican in Congress, plus all sorts of people, apparently using Mr. Trump as a role model, who are revising their personal history and now claiming they wanted Mr. Obama to succeed; I remember your posts and memes, even if you don’t. I also remember the steady stream of vitriole from Fox News and Rush Limbaugh. Fair chance? Fat chance!

On our recent cruise with the 1%-ers my standard line was, “It’s premature to judge whether or not Trump will be a good president, but he is NOT a good person.” Having received but one (bizarre, IMO, but it came out of Facebook, so the standards are not particularly high {“He won, so he must be good,” while simultaneously telling me how awful Bill Clinton was.}) defense of his character, clearly that does not seem to matter to his supporters. And if that doesn’t matter, what is the point, because any judgment of the political ramifications of his presidency is pure speculation at this point in history.

For now, at least, I will continue to sit on the sidelines, not because I have any confidence whatsoever in this presidency, but because every time the choir sings, Mr. Trump’s supporters go into their bunkers, dig in their heels, and either fire back a defensive fusillade or put on their noise-cancelling headphones and listen to their own music. I think the chorus is self-defeating at this point; the Trumpet section, playing their own tune equally loudly, is going to have to come to the conclusion that this was not a good choice on their own. That won’t happen quickly, and, obviously, for some, not at all, ever, because clearly our tastes in music differ.

As difficult as it is for people like me to accept, there is absolutely nothing I can say, no facts I can share, no logic I can use that will make a difference. So here I sit. My only concern: Is my passive patience feeding the delusion of not just his supporters but the president himself that I have no worries about what the future holds? That is manifestly untrue (not even an alternate fact), but I also wonder, did the silent “good Germans” enable Adolph Hitler* and his consolidation of power? Although my strategy is not really as passive as it might appear, I do ask myself, “Am I now part of the problem by not being part of the solution?”  As always, I have more questions than answers.

*Am I equating Trump to Hitler? No, at least not yet. But there are parallels which I think supporters ignore at their, and our, peril.

Liars Not So Anonymous: Trump and My Mother

I know a thing or two about lying and liars. Not just because I taught for 35+ years and heard more than my fair share when it came to excuses for any number of behaviors. And not because I was a guidance counselor for 6+ years and occasionally had to confront a student about the disconnect between what they were saying and what they were doing.

No, my experience with lying came from my familial upbringing. My mother had, shall we say, a casual, occasionally nodding, acquaintance with the truth. You know, you pass someone on the street and they look sort of familiar, so you kind of nod? That was her approach to the truth. Never tell it if there’s a lie available.

Anecdote #1, typical. She wanted to know how much a house was selling for on her street. She called the relator listed on the sign, then launched into a long, totally fictitious, story about uncles and nieces looking for houses, all under an alias. My brother and I were frequently tasked with answering the phone and lying for her if it was someone she didn’t want to talk to. I think Caller ID might have freed us from this sinful habit.

And a habit it is, one that I unfortunately picked up and had a difficult time overcoming, although I pride myself on having done so. Anecdote #2, personal. My college roommate and I were hitchhiking to Buffalo to visit a high school friend and classmate of mine. It’s upstate New York in the winter, snowy, cold and unpleasant. My friend went to college in Buffalo, but a smaller school, not Buffalo University, which is what we put on our sign to indicate both that we were students and our destination. 

We got a ride pretty quickly, and the driver asked, reasonably, if we went to Buffalo University. I immediately channeled my mother and answered, “Yes.” The next hour and a half consisted of my making up stuff about a school I’d never been to and knew nothing about. When our ride dropped us off in Rochester, my roommate looked at me and said, “What the ¶¢∞ª was that about?” Shaking my head, I confessed, “I don’t know.” That was an early, painfully embarrassing, lesson, but for years it was one day at a time.

My mother was so compulsive in her lying that she started to believe her lies and thus became quite good at revisionist history, at least on a personal level. That, of course, begs the question, “Is it lying if the liar believes what (s)he is saying, even if the rest of the world knows the truth is something not only different but verifiably different?” I don’t have the answer to that, but it is why I have been loath to accuse the current president of lying, because I think he always believes what he’s saying, even if it’s completely different than what he said the day, or week, or month, or year before.

I don’t know if there’s a cure, exactly, but Step 1 on the program is admitting you have a problem. Other steps including admitting you were/are wrong and asking forgiveness. I’m less than optimistic that any of these steps are on the agenda of our current president.