Lately I’ve been reading high school literature, books that were required for class that I read for the first time… on the toilet. I have this thing where I like to read anything and everything while doing business. I’ve read my shampoo bottle so many times I can advertise it. Briefly: Tresemme is a salon-quality shampoo that was designed to be affordable so anyone can have access to amazing hair care.
Anyway. Lately I’ve been going through my book shelf. The ones that drew my attention were ironically the books I stayed away from like black death. Ugh they gave me headaches with their different editions and forewords by obscure authors and analyses and perfect grammar and properness and literary symbols and blah. As if they weren’t bad as they were, we were required to strip them apart, scrutinize every syllable and punctuation and discuss what the author must have really meant. Because every literary production whose author was dead was supposed to be deep and never to be taken at face value.
Anyway. So far I’ve read Wuthering Heights and The Catcher in the Rye. Right now I’m in the middle of Fahrenheit 451. I know it doesn’t seem like I’ve read a lot but please take note that I usually only read these in the bathroom. It took me three months to finish Wuthering Heights.
Anyway. I guess I want to say that I’m really feeling these books. There were several instances I had to read a sentence or a paragraph over again cause it hit home or just made sense to me in an uncanny way. That’s several more instances than from my high school experience. Cool. For example, I freaking love Holden Caulfield. That guy is notorious for his irrational… just everything. If you read The Catcher in the Rye, I think you understand. He’s so…….. stupid and immature. Or so it seems. He’s rambunctious and rude and ignorant and obnoxious and whimsical and opinionated and not someone normal people would want as a friend.
But reading it for the first time… I found myself agreeing with almost everything he said/thought. This (fictional) idiot knows more about life than many adults I know. It’s crazy. Really. I get him. And this might sound crazy but it’s like he gets me. Hahahahahaaa did that sound as stupid as it felt writing it? I don’t know. There’s obviously so much more, so many quotes and scenes that led me to this point but I don’t have the energy or will to tap into my horrible memory to do so.
The crazier thing is. I see so much of God in there. I say God and not Jesus, for a reason. It’s God who created the heavens and the earth and every single human being. He’s everywhere, the earth is filled with his glory. And it’s him that flows from the mind of an author, a person, that has no intent, no conscious desire to exemplify, discuss, express him and his nature in his work, his life’s passion. I just can’t explain it. I know this sounds weird. And out there. And maybe heretical even. But that’s just what I see. It’s pretty amazing. Kinda cool. Our God is big.
Maybe one day if I remember and feel it in my guts, I will share a specific example. Until then, happy reading.
Next: Brave New World (kinda weirrrrrd from what I remember from Cliff Notes) or Pride and Prejudice (super stuffy writing).