In a misguided attempt to evade politics, I was reading Joe Queenan's paean to the book. We can speak about the virtues of books all day, especially old-style books, as well as about our private reading idiosyncracies, but I was particularly struck by his comments about life-changing books. Those are books that are usually read young, and bring new concepts to a person; they are not necessarily particularly unique, good, or even morally supportable.
He mentions Ayn Rand, whom I have managed to duck reading thus far, since I've heard enough summaries and tidbits to know I'd rather not even try; I'd probably rip the book apart to try and seize the author's ghost by the throat. Even close friends may have dramatically different "first love" books which impacted them deeply. That's all right. We have different experiences and books are a wonderful way to suddenly realize the world contains more, and has always contained, more than your family, school & the news ever told you. So, people's lists can get weird.
Mine is; it includes Xenophon's Treatise on Horsemanship, which sounds stodgy and unflowery. Stodgy it is, unless you're 9 years old, horse-mad, and you're suddenly realizing you're reading the words of a foreigner from 4,000 years ago, when they had no stirrups, about horse care and humane treatment, including positive reinforcement; no whips, no spirit-breaking. Horses were same then as now, and the vanity of humans, too, yet behind Xenophon's spare, logical words was an alien world I was glimpsing only by clues. This was my first solid introduction to the classics. I was hooked.
I felt that same mindblowing shock when reading Ibsen's A Doll's House for the first time. So spare, so deep, so raw. I never quite recaptured it with his other work (The Wild Duck came close). It may have been the translation, but much of it was that I had already adjusted to the alien premise of A Doll's House-- women being barred from financial dealings beyond trivial shopping, including being unable to take out loans, hold debts, manage their own money (given allowances!)-- in essence, adult children.
One book I hear over and over as a childhood "favorite" is Jane Eyre. (My personal pick is Adventures of Huckleberry Finn but I've learned I'm weird for that.) I bite my lip and just say I haven't read it. It's easier than saying I looked at it and quit after page 20 because I wasn't into romance (I was 12 and already knew Huck.)
After I got comfortable with Austen and other chick lit, I finally succumbed and read Jane Eyre, figuring I could tolerate it now. The first half was okay. Great interior narrative, and I saw similarities to the later "A Secret Garden" which I had liked as a child. But I just couldn't deal with the ending. Why did Jane go back? Of course, I read it too old. I was already cynical. It tore at me. I wound up writing a pastiche to the theme of Lewis Carroll that sums up why this book rubs me wrong.
His Conscience and Lord Rochester
After the cod, Lord Rochester sat:
"The time has come," he brooding said;
"To think of many things:
Of love-- and wards -- and my wife the nut--
Of singers-- and flings --
Of why my nuts are boiling hot --
And whether Jane might swing.'
'But wait a bit,' his conscience cried,
'Before we have our plot;
For some of our secrets may breath,
Then all of us are caught!'
'No worry!' said Lord Rochester.
It gave up after that.
'To love thus plead,' he cunning said,
'Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper of truth in evasion
Is very good indeed --
Now, if you're ready, Conscience dear,
We can begin the deed.'
'But bigamy!' his conscience cried,
Turning a little blue,
'After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!'
'Jane's rear is fine,' he coolly said,
'Don’t you admire the view?
'It was unkind of you to lust!
And whores are cheaper a vice!'
Lord Rochester said nothing but
'Celibacy's worse price:
I wish Bertha was never wiv'd
I've suffered all-- twice!
'It seems a shame,' his conscience said,
"To play Jane such a trick,
After we've brought her out so far,
And made chat trot so quick!'
Lord Rochester said nothing but
"This plotting's spread too thick!'
'I weep for Jane,' his conscience said;
'I deeply sympathize.'
With sobs and tears it sorted out
Lies of the largest size,
Holding up Edward Rochester
Before its streaming eyes.
'O Conscience,' said Lord Rochester
'We've had a pleasant fun!
Shall we be trotting down the aisle?'
But answer came there none --
And this was scarcely odd, because
He'd slipped and Jane was gone.
....
Everything up to the point Jane returns to Lord Rochester, I have no problems with. That quick summary from 10 years after the wedding, that they are indeed happy, THAT I have problems with. Many abusive, dysfunctional couples will put up that front, and I feel right there that ending is a lie of the biggest water.
(My poem also fibs: I doubt Lord Rochester had much conscience to consult.)
But it's a lie so many readers believe in, including the friends who tell me Jane Eyre is their favorite book and they'd like to meet Lord Rochester, etc.. I understand the character is what they love, but that ending is just not right. Some relationships, while life-altering, are meant to be left behind and move on, and I need more than the "tests" and flirting to convince me they'd work out.
I've previously mentioned Gavin de Becker's "The Gift of Fear" and I would urge all fans to read Jane Eyre in that light. I also have been reading "Almost a Psychopath" by Ronald Schouten MD, JD and James Silver, JD, which is an excellent book with case studies that make clear distinctions, as well as some practical advice on dealing with them in your personal and professional life.
To quote briefly from them: "A common question people ask themselves after dealing with an almost psychopath is: How did I not see this while it was happening. Part of the answer is surely that the almost psychopath did what psychopaths do-- charm and manipulate, con and lie. But part of the answer probably lies within you as well. You didn't "see" it because, literally, you can't think the way a psychopath does."
Bronte couldn't. Not her fault. But, I'll say that some books are like that description of a psychopath; they seduce you into reading and believing a load of moral codswallop at an age where your discrimination skills are still developing. This is probably why so many "life changing books" have dubious moral premises.
That's great on one level. We need to learn people don't always think as they're supposed to be. We need to rehearse for the villians we meet in real life. But first, we need to see them for whom they are.
Above all, keep reading! There are many books to love, healthily, even if they don't have that heart-stopping drama your favorites had.