Books That Changed Me.

I guess it's time to let the book geek out of the bag. (I'm sure you all suspected.) I like reading books, I like writing about books and talking about them, and lately, I've enjoyed looking at pictures of them at Book Porn. (I do realize this is a whole new level of book geekery.)

There are pictures like this:

Klementium Library in Prague, Czech Republic

and this:

15th Century Book of Hours

And lots like this:

So you can see the appeal, yes?

While screwing around doing research, I came across a project called Books That Changed Me. It's pretty much exactly what it says, so I'm going to spare you a lengthy explanation.

As I tried to think of books that changed me, I realized I couldn't pick just one. (Sort of like Lay's potato chips.) Top 10, in alphabetical order so no one gets jealous.

The Mists of Avalon, Marion Zimmer Bradley

Signed book plate!

I knew the tales of Camelot and King Arthur when I was a kid. They didn't appeal to me then and they didn't appeal to me as a young adult. Because apparently I was a feminist before I knew it and all of the tales were dominated by men, which did not interest me. All the chicks in the traditional tales are either dimwits (Gwenhwyfar) or evil, ball-busting witches (Morgan le Fay.) None them have any personality or power, just those boring ass one-dimensional stereotypes. The Mists of Avalon tells the tales of Camelot from a woman's point of view. And, holy shit, what women they were! Morgaine (Morgan le Fay) isn't an evil sorceress, she's misunderstood and just wants to be loved! But her aunt Morgause sure is a bitch. Gwenhwyfar has a 3-way! Igraine was a secret bad-ass who fell in love with a not-so-secret bad-ass and produced Arthur! Lancelet is kind of a douche. King Arthur is wonderful, but sometimes spoiled and petulant. If you're a reader like me, you'll also appreciate the boatload of prequels and sequels.

James and the Giant Peach, Roald Dahl

When I first considered what books changed me, this is the first book I went to. I don't necessarily relate to James: I'm not an orphan, no mean aunts abused me and unfortunately, no one has ever given me a sack of magical, glowing-green, crocodile tongues. What James and the Giant Peach did do was make me realize the potential for storytelling and fiction and OMG books are amazing. This is the first "chapter" book I was exposed to, thanks to my third grade teacher (shout out to Mrs. Cypher nee Garrett.) This is also the book I chose to read from for the library's 24 Hour Read Aloud.

The Count of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas

My 1901 copy of Monte Cristo

Oh, Edmund Dantes, how could that bitch Mercedes give up on you? Thanks to a very good friend (looking at you, DWR) I was more or less forced to read this book. There was some cajoling involved ("C'mon, you'll love it. Honest!") All I knew about Dumas was The Three Musketeers movie- which, no*. Again, being a contrary bitch means saying sorry because I loved- devoured- this book. It introduced me to a new genre (ADVENTURE!) I moved on from The Count of Monte Cristo to the rest of Dumas and then to books about pirates and prison breaks. The new biography out about Alexandre Dumas' father (the son of an African slave and French nobleman) called The Black Count: Glory, Revolution, Betrayal, and the Real Count of Monte Cristo by Tom Reiss shows that many of Dumas' characters were inspired by his own pops.

Separation, Dan Franck

Even the cover is depressing.

I believe this (Prix Renaudot winning) book is the reason I didn't get married until I was 30. It inspired in me a complete horror of divorce. Now I know you are thinking, "Hey, aren't your parents divorced?" Well, yes, but that was over 30 years ago and they both have been remarried for over 25 years. (If I'm not over that, I need to get a fucking grip.) If you have ever had a relationship die a slow, agonizing death (just rip the band-aid off, dammit!) you'll see yourself in this novel. She stops holding his hand. She won't meet his eyes. She says this:

You humiliate my heart. You humiliate me...it's humiliating for a woman to make love to a man she doesn't desire anymore.

Tough stuff. It's elegant and awful and imminently readable.

The Autobiography of Henry VIII, Margaret George

I picked this up on a whim at Eljay's Used Books. I didn't know a damn thing about Henry VIII, Tudor England, or any European History. I read it in a day. Since then I have probably read every fiction book written about Henry Tudor and his wives, daughters, friends, enemies (and many, many non-fiction books, too.) This book introduced me to the historical fiction genre which I didn't know EXISTED. In turn, that inspired an interest in real history- local, national and worldwide.

The Bachman Books, Stephen King

You know the movie The Running Man? It came from this book of short stories. And it's the worst story of the four! The other three stories, Rage, The Long Walk and Road Work would all be amazing movies. I was probably too young to read this, but whatever. This book changed me in two ways. First of all, as a budding writer, it introduced me to the idea of short stories. I mean, I was 11 and wanted to write a novel, but there's not much to go on at that age. But a short story? Oh, hell yes, that could be done! Second, it was the first time I was ever emotionally invested in a character. I *loved* Peter McVries (The Long Walk) and his scar and his sub-conscious death wish (which honestly was just a preview of coming attractions for me.)

Atlas Shrugged, Any Rand

Any time I mention enjoying Rand books, I immediately get flamed for being an egoist, an elitist, or a Republican. I'm none of those things. Not too many elitists work for the public library, I'm just saying. Like any book, you should take what you want/need from it. I didn't swallow her philosophy whole, but you know what? She had some smart things to say about the nature of happiness and joy, and valuing yourself. Now, I'm not going to push a cripple into the street and I donate to charity, but there is something to be said for being aware of your worth. Self-confidence is sexy, yo. It's also simply a good story, especially if you like heavy industry, politics, and trains. Henry Rearden is my favorite fictional character. *swoon*

Hamlet, William Shakespeare

I knew all the words to Romeo and Juliet when I was 4 years old, thanks to my mother and this. And that would be the extent of my interest in William Shakespeare until I was in college. As a writing major, I had a ton of reading. For some reason, I had to read Hamlet for six different classes. I discovered Shakespeare in all of his greatness. For a long time I was caught up in the actual writing, the syntax, the stage directions, etc. Finally, I stopped worrying and just read the damn thing. You know, like a book. It worked and I was captured, enamored, in love, smitten. I moved on from the tragedies to the comedies (thanks to the gift of the Complete Works of William Shakespeare from the husband) and that was that: Shakespeare was my boy.

Falling Up, Shel Silverstein

Usually when I think of poetry I think of this guy. But Shel Silverstein was my first poet and is still the one I love the most. His poems are funny and subversive and short and silly and sometimes oddly sweet. He wrote about Short-Leg Sue and his illustrations are always so whimsical. He draws an excellent butt. He also wrote a poem about overdue library books, so as a librarian, I think he's A-OK.

War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy

In my final semester in undergrad, I took 19th Century Russian Masterpieces. (I was there a long time, it was slim pickins' at that point.) The reading list was intense. Crime and Punishment (Dostoevsky), Chekhov plays, Dead Souls (Gogol), Pushkin, Turgenev, and of course, the granddaddy of Russian novels, War and Peace. I was dreading it. I was intimidated by it. Just the name hurt my stomach. But since I wanted to graduate from college some day, I sucked it up and opened it. Oh. My. Word. Four days later, I finished it, crying. It's the damn Russian Gone with the Wind and don't let anyone tell you different. Go Team Andrei!

What book changed you?

*Ever since my husband and I watched The Count of Monte Cristo with Jim Caviezel  he has hated Guy Pearce.