Let’s take a second and remember high school. English teachers forcing students to read books 100+ years old, asking “what does the blue symbolize,” and generally make us dislike or even hate the books we’re forced to study.
I was one of those people. I’ve always been a reader. I used to read Goosebumps every night by my nightlight. I devoured every single Dear America, My Name is America, and Royal Diaries, all stories that told American history from the eyes of fictional characters. By fifth grade, I had read through most of my elementary school’s library, as well as the local public library (before we got banned, but that was bullshit and they are the morons who put Yu-Gi-Oh! manga, which was clearly rated T for teens, in the area for very young children, and when I pointed out that that was a bit problematic, and showed them several pages why, I was banned for causing a scene… Sorry, I’m still annoyed by it, and it’s been like 15 years).
The only thing I really avoided was the classics. At the time, I just didn’t enjoy the writing style. Nothing against them, I just wasn’t really interested.
Then, in middle school, we were assigned several in our English classes. Spending months focusing on one book was literal burnout for me. A book that interests me could usually be read in two or three days back then (one day now, but I’m a faster reader than my pre-teen years). It took us four months to get through “The Most Dangerous Game” by Richard Connell, and that’s just a short story!
Meanwhile, several of my teachers would “punish” anyone they saw that wasn’t reading the current book. I blasted through The Cay by Theodore Taylor in a week, while on vacation at Disney World. (I always did my homework the first day we got there, so that it wasn’t hanging over me. Mom’s only contribution was making sure I was following the assignment list, then watching random movies on TV while I got my work done. It worked well for us.) We got back from vacation, I have a stack of homework done, only to discover that I had done all the assignments for the entire three month period, not just the one week. Now I got to sit and listen to a book on tape s-l-o-w-l-y read every work, and I wasn’t allowed to turn anything in until the proper time.
Or, there’s the time a different teacher took us into the high school library (which was NOT well stocked in the least) and told us to pick a book to be read over the ENTIRE SEMESTER. I tried every book that was out that I was interested in, no dice. I think I ended up with Huck Finn, and she made me check out the “sanitized” version. I’ve never wanted to scream more.
And people wonder why I just gave up.
I just cannot normally give classics the time of day again. Getting books that generally don’t interest me shoved down my throat while being told that these are the only books every worth reading, my opinion is unwanted, just destroys my interest every time.
And then.
And then I watched Far From the Madding Crowd.
I’ve mentioned this film several times before. I literally only watched it for Matthias Schoenaerts. I didn’t care about reading the book, and it’s a period piece, kill me.
And I was hooked the entire time.
After the credits started rolling, I was instructed by my mom to immediately order a copy of the book. Which I promptly did. I wasn’t planning on reading it. Besides, books are almost always better than the movie, and movies usually combine and mess up the source material.
But Mom loved it. And every day (she reads before bed), she’d tell me how far she got, and if it was close to the book.
(If you’re reading this Mom, I beg you, stop telling me. I want to experience books without you telling me every plot point that you’ve just read, especially if I haven’t read it yet. You damn near killed HP for me, and almost my entire interest for this one. I love you but no. Please. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.)
I just got my hands onto the book. Day one, which was yesterday, I put on some quiet music and opened the book. Suddenly, it was about 45 minutes later, I was 100 pages in, and I’m hooked. I wanted to keep reading, but I had to help Mom with her lunch (she’s been moved to another position at work and is in training, and she’s having a time of it).
But I’m reading a classic. Something I figured I wouldn’t do until far later in life. And it’s already taught me something: never assume. I figured I’d never want to. And now I’m enjoying every page. Maybe it’s because I already saw the movie, maybe it’s because every single part of it was already spoiled for me (thanks Mom).
But what ever it is, I’m reading it. And I’m happy about it.
I’ll let you all know what I think when I finish.
Until next time!
