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Looking Back at the Classics: The Best and The Missed

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My reading habits have changed a lot in the last few years — in college, I pretty much only read “classics,” even as fun reading outside of being an English major. It was that or adult literary fiction, with periodic non-fiction thrown in. Then when I went to library school, I was a heavy adult non-fiction reader. I did dabble in a bit of young adult fiction both in college and in library school, but certainly not to the extent I do now.

Even though I’m way more reluctant to pick up classics now, I often think about the ones I read and loved and how much they influence how I read today. I also think a lot about the classics I didn’t read that it seems everyone else has read and tell myself someday I will read them (really). I thought it could be fun to talk about the lasting influences, as well as talk about what I haven’t read in hopes of maybe being convinced to give something new a try. 

Favorites

For me, the reading experience of classics is influenced a lot by time and place, maybe more than any other type of book. I can remember where I was when I read each of these the first time and I can remember what it felt like to experience the novel in a way I can’t always do with other books. I wonder how much it has to do with classics being a sort of collective experience, since books become “classics” through generations of reading.

Moby Dick is a pretty contentious title I’ve learned — it’s either LOVED or it’s HATED, and there’s very little ground between. But you can put me squarely on the side of thinking this is one of the all-time greatest novels. It’s long, it’s long-winded, delving into whaling and life on a whaling vessel and really, it’s a story about life and people. Ahab is obsessed with finding this whale because it’s his life duty to finally win this war once and for all. Except fighting nature, fighting the creatures outside of yourself as some sort of justification for existence, doesn’t quite work that way. The story is brilliant, and Melville makes it even better because the writing itself is poetic. It is almost entirely a metaphor, which I love without shame. There’s certainly a story but oh, it’s so much more in the story that’s not being told than in the one being presented. Moby Dick is an untouchable book for me — nothing will ever quite live up to it in my mind. I’m extremely curious how China Mieville draws on Melville’s book for inspiration in his forthcoming Railsea.

When I was in library school, I had access to one of the best special collections libraries in the world, and one of my classes required that we do an in-depth appraisal on a rare book. Of course, I picked this one, and getting the opportunity to spend a long time with an original of Moby Dick only made it that much more meaningful.

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte is my favorite Bronte work (which you’ll see is an unfair statement soon). It features a strong, independent woman in a time when they weren’t celebrated in literature — kind of ironic given that Bronte couldn’t publish this under her own name, but under the more “masculine” name Acton Bell. In the book, Gilbert becomes obsessed with the reclusive Helen, who lives in Wildfell Hall with her young son. The townspeople have given her quite a reputation, and despite some reluctance on Gilbert’s part, he’s still fascinated by Helen. Eventually, she lets him in on all of the terrible things that happened in her last marriage, why she left, and why she is who she is now. I’m hit and miss with Victorian lit, but this one is and will always be among my favorites because Helen is a hell of a character and she feels so, so much. Oh, and this is told in dual narrative too, so readers get both Helen’s voice and Gilbert’s.

One of my all-time favorite movies is Malena — it’s the story of a woman who moves to a small Sicily town while her husband serves in World War II. She’s beautiful, and she’s a threat to all of the other people in town because of this, and she endures a sort of humiliation no one deserves because of it. The story’s not told through her eyes, though; it’s told through the eyes of a 12-year-old boy who is fascinated with who this woman really is. Although the movie isn’t based on Bronte’s story, every time I watch it I can’t help but think about Helen and Tenant of Wildfell Hall. In both, strong, independent women being pushed to the margins of their communities because of cattiness, gossip, and a lack of interest in getting to know the whole person within (or the kinds of pain she carries).

Return of the Soldier by Rebecca West is arguably the first novel that deals with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Written in 1918, West’s story follows Chris as he reunites with three women who have played a huge role in his life. The problem is, he can’t really remember them or what they really meant to him before the war took a toll on his mental state. Chris is unable to remember his wife or his cousin when he returns home, and he believes the poor, unkempt Mrs. Grey is his wife. It’s a story about love and sacrifice, and it’s one wrought with desperation. Of course Chris’s wife wants him back for herself, and she wants him to be better. The thing is, neither she nor his cousin can figure out the way to cure him or whether they have the right to make him better themselves. This is a short book — one I think I read in a couple hours — but it’s an emotional powerhouse.

   
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey is one I think everyone knows or at least has heard of. When I was in 6th grade, I had my first male teacher, and he was a hulking, scary kind of teacher — over six feet tall, build big, and he had a booming voice. The kind of guy you don’t mess around with. He knew I was a reader, even back then, and I will never forget him telling me that the only book that ever scared him was Kesey’s book, but that I was too young to read and appreciate it for what it was. He told me to read it later — and I did. I don’t know if I would go as far as to say it scared me, but I would say it gave me a lot of chills. It’s not so much the mental ward setting, though that’s certainly something that always does put me in a certain state when reading. It was the social dynamics that made this book one of my favorites — it’s the little guys vs the big guys. It’s a story where those without power try to get it. Oh, and it’s told through the eyes of the character who won’t talk to anyone but it’s in his power of observation that the story really unfolds. This is the kind of book I keep hoping will be visited in some way in a ya retelling/revisioning because it is so ripe for it. I’ve seen the movie more times than I can count but the book does it better.

When I was in high school, I wrote book reviews for the high school newspaper (and music reviews, too, and no, I won’t brag and talk about how I interviewed people like Matt Nathanson before he was who he is today, not at all). One of the books I reviewed was In Cold Blood by Truman Capote, and since that day, I’ve revisited this novel many, many times. It’s still a favorite. I won’t go as far as to say this is a true crime story, because I’m fairly certain Capote took many liberties in reporting, but this is a novel about the 1959 murders of the Clutter family in small-town Holcomb, Kansas. It follows the actual murders, the investigation into the crime, and the uncovering of the murderers and subsequent sentencing of them. Capote’s book melds everything I love about journalism with traditional storytelling, and it probably left me more terrified and scared than any horror book I’ve read — true events, especially random murder in an average town, is so much scarier than ghosts or vampires or the undead. Although it’s probably not a classic in the sense that Melville’s book is, it is a classic in my mind and it’s got lasting power.

A handful of other favorite classics include Nathaniel Hawthorn’s The Scarlet Letter, Shakespeare’s King Lear and Twelfth Night, Sherwood Anderson’s Winesburg, Ohio (which, true story, I wrote a play based off one summer for a play-writing class I took) and Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass (if “I Sing the Body Electric” doesn’t give you chills when you read it, I’m not sure we’d get along well — it is one of the best pieces of poetry in existence).

Classics Unread

I’m part shamed and maybe part proud I haven’t read some of these. But I’m putting it out there to maybe be convinced that one or all of these are worth the time to visit in the near future.

Confession: I have not read any Jane Austen. Actually, I take that back. I’ve been sitting about 40 pages in Sense and Sensibility for over a year now, and I read one of Austen’s short stories. I took a class in Victorian Lit (see the Anne Bronte book above) and had one of my favorite professors, who told me that if I wanted to start somewhere with Austen, to read her short story “Lady Susan.” “Lady Susan” was the only thing Austen ever wrote that she hated and wished she hadn’t written, so of course I read it. It’s dark! I loved it! But after that, I never found myself compelled to finish a novel of hers. I’ve got copies of Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, and, yes, The Complete Works of Jane Austen on my book shelf. They’ve been great dust collectors.

Another author I can put on the “haven’t read a single work from” list is Virginia Woolf. Maybe not entirely remarkable, but seeing I was assigned To the Lighthouse on more than one occasion in school and that I have copies of many of her books, it is pretty noteworthy. I’m not sure I wouldn’t like her works, but I’m not entirely sure I would be sucked into the writing. I’ve been told The Years would probably be a good place to start.

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte is another one of my “haven’t read” books. I’ve read both of Anne Bronte’s titles, and I’ve read Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights, but I haven’t ventured into Charlotte’s work. I do feel a little lost because I haven’t read this one, especially since it happens to make appearances in so much contemporary fiction.

The Odyssey and The Iliad by Homer are books I never read, either. And I have to be completely honest and say neither has appeal to me as a reader, so I’m almost glad I’ve missed out. I realize the foundation they both play in a lot of literature afterward, but I’ve gotten by this far and figure I’ll be good for a while longer.

William Golding’s The Lord of the Flies is sort of a big one to miss, and it’s one I know got read in high school. Except I took a class where instead of reading the books most high schoolers read, we were given more esoteric (read: more awesome) picks, including Les Miserables. I do want to read this one at some point because I know it’s a bit brutal, and that’s always up my alley.

Maybe I’m being a little generous calling Bram Stoker’s Dracula a classic, but there it is. I haven’t read it, and I’ve been told more than once how fantastic a read it is. I have read many modern retellings or revisionings of this one, but I haven’t read the original itself.

Who I’d Like to Read or Revisit

A few bonus titles! There are so many classics I’ve meant to read or have read and didn’t appreciate the first time I read it for one reason or another. It’s my hope in revisiting these (or experiencing the first time) will help me find new favorites for my top list.

I read My Antonia and O Pioneers! and I believe a number of short stories by Willa Cather in high school, and I remember hating them quite passionately. The thing is, now that I’ve spent real time in the Midwest and have come to really like it here, I feel like I’d have a different appreciation for Cather’s books.

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich has been recommended to me numerous times, and given my prior experience enjoying Russian Lit, I think this is one I have to get to eventually. It’s the story of Ivan, who is a labor-camp worker in one of Stalin’s work camps. It’s supposed to be quite graphic and a great portrait of an individual trying to find some sort of dignity when there was none to be had.

I grew up just south of Chicago, and I find it a bit of a shame I haven’t read any Raymond Chandler, seeing he was not only regaled as one of the leaders in mystery/detective fiction, but he was also a Chicagoan by birth (which, to be fair, I haven’t read Sinclair Lewis either, but there’s something much more appealing about reading a mystery than reading about the south side slaughter houses). The Big Sleep is Chandler’s most well-known novel and it seems like a good place to start . . . whenever I get the chance to.

I have been told by everyone who has survived reading Henry David Thoreau’s Walden that it’s one I don’t have to read but I find that to be a challenge, rather than a warning. I’ve had to memorize a good chunk of this book before (“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately…”) and I’m fascinated to read the entirety of Walden because of that.

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov is a book I have not one, but two copies of, in my collection. Yet, I haven’t read it. I carry a certain amount of shame for not having read this one, too.

Last, but not least, I am anxious to some day reread J. D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye. I used to read this book every year in high school and I read it a couple times in college. I tried reading it in library school, but in the process of having it checked out from the library, I lost it, then ended up paying for it and finding it months later. Long story longer, I kind of feel like this is the kind of book that I would find obnoxious now, even though I loved it back in the day. The sort of book you measure your own maturity and growth against, whether that’s fair or not. I’m curious whether Holden stands out at all or it’s the secondary characters who come to the forefront of the story.

So now tell me, what should I be reading? And maybe what I’m more interested in hearing — what classics have you loved or missed? Why? What makes a classic work for you?

Three Takes on Isolation: Mini Reviews

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Admittedly, the title is a little misleading, but I was trying to think of a way to tie together these three book reviews, and the one thing I kept coming back to was the feeling a bit isolated. I think it’s maybe a bit of a strong word, but in each of these stories, the main character feels removed from his/her world in some way. So here are three shorter reviews with three characters dealing with being on the outside. Kind of.

Nina LaCour’s sophomore novel The Disenchantments follows Colby as he pursues his post-graduation dream of hitting the road with his best girl Bev’s band, The Disenchantments. Colby’s not in the band himself but is one of their roadies. After their stint along the west coast, the two of them plan on ditching America for a year-long travel extravaganza in Europe. So they can get out together and see the world before doing the college/job thing. The thing is, as soon as their trip along the coast begins, Bev drops the bomb: she’s ditching their plans to travel. She wants to do her own thing.

Colby feels cheated now and he’s hurt. He’d planned his post-school life around Bev, knowing they’d made this promise to one another. Much as it’d be easy for him to ditch her and the band now, he doesn’t. Instead, he uses this as the opportunity to figure out who Bev is, what his relationship with her really is, and maybe most important, he has to figure himself out. What will he do now that the plans he’d prepared for are suddenly tossed out the window?

LaCour’s book took me a really long time to get into, and even when I was finally able to fall into the story, I never found myself connecting emotionally with the characters. I liked Colby, and I believed his loss when Bev tells him she wants to do her own thing after the tour. However, I didn’t find myself necessarily invested in him. Colby was good enough but he didn’t compel me beyond that moment. He’s stuck in the past of what he and Bev were (understandably) but it takes him way too long to move forward and upward. Because of that, the novel is slow and has little forward movement for quite a long time. I also wasn’t entirely sold on Colby’s voice, but because I liked him enough and I liked the premise of a story where a girl breaks the boy’s heart, I let it go.

Colby feels himself isolated now, and he comes to realize that resting his own future upon the future of someone else wasn’t very smart. When he finally wakes up and realizes the world is sort of before him, the book does move forward. The Disenchantments sort of reminded me of Kirsten Hubbard’s Wanderlove when it comes to the ideas of the importance of travel and exploration, both of the physical world and of the internal, personal one. LaCour’s writing is good, despite the challenges I had, and this book will no doubt appeal to fans of music and travel.

Brian F. Walker’s Black Boy, White School offers up another male voice in a story about Anthony (Ant), who lives in East Cleveland. It’s not a nice area, and he too often knows the victims of the neighborhood’s violence. It’s not just that, though. His family’s not necessarily the most stable either, and he and his mother want nothing more than for Ant to escape this place so he can have a brighter future. That future comes in the form of Belton Academy, where Ant’s been given a scholarship and an opportunity to start fresh. Belton’s deep in Maine, so it’ll be a huge change for him, and it’s a huge culture shock when he gets there.

Ant’s used to being the black boy in a sea of other people who look like him, but at Belton, he’s a minority, and he feels it acutely. Much of what he feels is real, but a lot of it comes from his own mind. He’s having a hard time adjusting to life at the new school and in a new social world. Yeah, there is some racism and discrimination, but the bigger issue at hand is really the one in Ant’s own head. He doesn’t feel good enough and that’s NOT because of the racism/discrimination, but his own past keeping him back.

Walker’s story lacks in writing, though, and because it’s told in third person past, there’s a level of being removed from the story. I never connected much with Ant, and I felt like most of the characters weren’t well fleshed out. The moments where there should have been emotional intensity, there just wasn’t. However, I give Walker credit with the story here, and I think that’s what will make this book resonate with teen readers. It’s reminiscent of Walter Dean Meyers, and I believe reluctant readers will enjoy this title, too. The urban life will feel real and I think the kids who will appreciate this story will be the ones who come from and understand a world where poverty, violence, and drugs are prevalent and almost unavoidable. Although it’s not as strong as Quick’s Boy21, there were many similarities in the two stories and this title could be a nice lead in to giving Quick’s a try.

Emily M Danforth’s The Miseducation of Cameron Post weighs in at almost 500 pages, and while I’m usually a believer in cutting down a story that big, I’m not sure what could be taken out of this one and still have it be successful. As soon as the book opens, Cameron loses her parents in a car wreck and she’s almost happy about it because it means she doesn’t have to tell them what she’s done. She’s kissed a girl.

Let me back up and say this is 1989 in rural Montana, so it’s kind of a big deal she’s done that. Except — and this is a big except — she’s not going to get off easy at all. Cameron’s being sent to live with her aunt Ruth who is extremely conservative. The girl Cameron kissed is kind of out of the picture.

Fast forward to 1991 and Coley moves to the same town Cameron lives in, and now she and Cameron are seeing one another. They’re more than friends. They’re feeling things much more intensely, and when they think things are going to be okay, that their feelings and their time together has been well-covered, it’s not. The secret hasn’t been hidden at all.

Cameron’s aunt decides to take action and send Cameron to God’s Promise to fix her. It’s a conservative church program to degay Cameron. And while there’s ripe opportunity for this to become a story where there is a right and a wrong, where the Promise program is made into the sort of thing that readers would laugh at, Danforth is successful in making it a place that’s scary but not unrealistic nor judged as entirely wrong (even if we as readers know it is).

This is a book about being isolated physically and emotionally, as Cameron is unable to fit into her conservative family and world because she’s a lesbian. But more than that, Cameron herself sort of struggles with what her sexuality is, if it’s anything at all. The experience at Promise, which is rapt with all sorts of less-than-angelic behavior from her and other attendees, puts more questions than answers in her mind. It’s well-done, despite being lengthy. And I think the ending of this book might be one of my favorite endings in a long time — it ties the story right back to Cameron’s loss and grief over losing her parents and her freedom in exploring who she really is. The ending made the problematic elements work for me.

The Miseducation of Cameron Post, as I mentioned, was long, and even though I don’t know if anything is extraneous or in need of editing, I found that it was slow paced and took a long time to get into. Moreover, it’s a quieter story, despite tackling a large issue. That’s not in and of itself problematic, but given the quiet nature and the fact this book is set in a quiet world and the fact it’s set in the early 1990s makes me question whether it will have wide teen appeal. I see this as a true coming of age novel that adults may find themselves enjoying a lot more than teens. While the time period is a framing device for local events that sink the story into the setting, it didn’t work for me. I also found many of the secondary characters, particularly those at Promise, to be a little thinly developed. Cameron herself, however, was a well-done and rounded character.

All copies provided by the publisher and all titles are available now.

Same Narrator, Very Different Experiences

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Like most audiobook listeners, I have some narrators I love: Jim Dale, Barbara Rosenblat, almost anyone at Full Cast Audio. Then there are some who are just duds, who can turn a good book into an annoying or even miserable experience.

And then there are narrators who can do both. Kirsten Potter is my most recent experience with this phenomenon. About a year ago, I listened to the production of Kirby Larson’s Hattie Big Sky and was unimpressed. I wasn’t hugely thrilled with the story itself, but the narration dragged the book down even further. I thought Potter’s voice for Hattie sounded much too old for the youthful protagonist, and her accents for ancillary characters sounded overwrought and false. Overall, it wasn’t what I would consider a good production.
Then on a whim, I picked up Christina Meldrum’s Madapple, without knowing or caring who narrated it. As I listened, I recognized the voice, but the effect was very different this time. Meldrum’s book has a sleepy, somewhat haunting feel to it, and Potter’s voice is a perfect match. There are no fake accents, and it doesn’t seem like Potter is an adult mimicking a child because the character of Aslaug is so different from Hattie. Potter expertly makes me feel for Aslaug, and her voice keeps me riveted to the story, despite the fact that as a contemporary realistic novel, it’s something I’d usually avoid. Meldrum’s writing combines with Potter’s narration to make Madapple seem almost like a fantasy. It’s a very atmospheric story which fits Potter’s low tones much better than did Hattie Big Sky.
Do you have this relationship with any narrators you’ve listened to? It’s the first time I can remember where my reactions have been almost polar opposites of each other, and I’m curious to know if I’m alone in this.

STACKED’s review policy: Expanded and updated

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We’ve updated our review policy page — we’ve been using the same guidelines for a couple of years now, and given the influx of pitches we’ve received lately, we wanted to be more up-to-date. You can find the updated version under the table at the top of our blog, as well as pasted below. 

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STACKED welcomes your input and accepts material for review. We are honest and critical in our reviews, but acknowledge the five laws of Ranganathan. We believe that nearly all materials have an audience, and it is our goal to help identify that audience. Periodically we will post reviews for books that did not work for us; however, we strive to identify strengths and readers who would find the book a perfect fit.

Our blog receives good traffic, with over 800 subscribers, roughly 300 unique hits a day and 15,000 page views a month, as of March 2012.

Please note that we are selective in accepting pitches. The best way to approach us is to be familiar with our review policy and contact us with some knowledge of why your book would be a good fit with our reading interests and preferences. We respond to those pitches in which we’re interested in only.

We cannot make guarantees for reviews or other blog features, but we make our best effort to read and review what we receive. Our collective email address is stacked.books [at] gmail [dot] com and you can find our individual contact information below.

Genres of Interest

We accept most genres, though we have preferences as outlined below. We do not accept self-published titles unless it is by an author with a proven track record, and we do not accept e-books unless we request it specifically (via Netgalley or Edelweiss). Pitches including unrequested e-books will not be opened.

Genres of most interest include:

– Adult, Young Adult, and Middle Grade: realistic fiction, science fiction, fantasy, dystopian, coming-of-age, mystery/thriller, historical fiction, and romance are favorites.

– Adult and Young Adult Non-Fiction: contemporary issues, social issues, psychology, cook books, history books that tell about lesser-known events or that put a new twist on well-known events, memoirs or biographies.

Kelly’s Preferences

I prefer contemporary YA, but I also love adult non-fiction, genre-bending books (especially magical realism), and psychological thrillers of the YA or adult variety. Favorite authors include CK Kelly Martin, Blake Nelson, Nova Ren Suma, Courtney Summers, Siobhan Vivian, Melissa Walker, and Blythe Woolston. You can get an idea of favorite specific titles across all genres on my GoodReads page.

You can reach me at kellybjensen [at] gmail [dot] com.

Kimberly’s Preferences

My favorite genres include science fiction and fantasy (including dystopias/post-apocalyptic stories), mysteries/thrillers (especially heist stories), historical fiction, and some contemporary fiction. These hold across both YA and adult fiction. I’m also an audio book listener in any of these genres. Please feel free to pitch me your full-color, plot-driven graphic novels, too. Examples of favorite recent reads include Ilsa Bick’s Ashes, S. A. Bodeen’s The Raft, Vera Brosgol’s Anya’s Ghost, Ally Carter’s Heist Society series, Harlan Coben’s Shelter, Kim Harrington’s Clarity, Pete Hautman’s Obsidian Blade, A. S. King’s Everybody Sees the Ants, Y. S. Lee’s Mary Quinn mysteries, Michaela MacColl’s Prisoners in the Palace, Patrick Ness’ Chaos Walking series, Meg Rosoff’s There Is No Dog, Veronica Roth’s Divergent, Amy Kathleen Ryan’s Glow, Laura Wiess’ novels, Gene Yang’s work, and Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief.

You can reach me at kimberlymfrancisco [at] gmail [dot] com.

Jen’s Preferences

I prefer YA and MG, with the occasional adult or nonfiction book thrown in. Favorite genres include contemporary, fantasy, magical realism, and dystopian across all reading levels. Favorite authors include Libba Bray, Jennifer Brown, Meg Cabot, Kate Messner, Patrick Ness, Laurel Snyder, and Sara Zarr.

You can reach me at jpetroroy [at] gmail [dot] com.

Genres Generally Not Accepted

Please do not pitch us paranormal/paranormal romance, morality tales, religious fiction, or self-published titles unless you have a proven track record of traditional publication.

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We accept print books, including graphic novels in any of our preferred genres. We also accept audio books.

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All giveaways are one entry per person, unless otherwise specified. Parameters of any giveaway are listed, and sources are disclosed. Only entries received via designated entry forms will be accepted, in respect for the privacy of our readers. All giveaways are open only to those 13 and older. Winners are notified via email.

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