When I was a little girl, my mother used to tell me, "If you can read, you can do anything." She encouraged me to explore literature; she showed me how magical it could be to lose myself in an adventure or wrestle with a new idea. I learned that the smell of library books and the feeling of their plastic-ish protective covers in my hands meant that I was to be transported to other worlds, and that bedtime would come all too soon.
I remember soaking in Ramona Quimby at the dinner table on special nights (I would always long to hear just one more chapter), browsing the shelves of the public library as we picked out stacks of books for the week (it felt so tragic that they put a limit on the number we could check out), and eagerly participating in Round Rock Library's "Summer Reading Program."
Mom encouraged our reading by creating a kind of "book caterpillar" - each time we finished a book, she wrote the title on a colored circle of construction paper and placed it on the top of our bedroom wall (the first book was connected to the beaming caterpillar head). As we read, the caterpillar grew and wrapped itself around our bedroom walls - sometimes several times!
As the years passed, I read less often. As a middle school student, I still loved a good story, though I found myself much more interested in phone conversations and school dances. During my high school years, extracurricular activities and dating took up the majority of my energy and free time. It wasn't until my first year of college that I rediscovered the joy of reading.
Last fall, I took an English course that surveyed American Literature. The professor was electric, inspiring, and challenging. He introduced me to classics I had never explored and a wide range of texts that I had never even considered. Thanks to his class, I screamed at the protagonist of The Awakening and sobbed for the protagonist of Their Eyes Were Watching God (it became a favorite). I listened to the rich whispers of Walt Whitman, read texts of Native American chants and "Borderland Corridos," and analyzed work by such leaders as Booker T. Washington and W.E.B. Du Bois.
This fall, I am continuing this exploration by taking "African-American Literature Pre-1930." Reading slave narratives and abolitionist writings as an adult has opened my eyes to aspects of human nature and experience that I had never fully seen before.
I have also set some reading goals for each month of this academic year - I intend to read some new novels, but mostly to revisit some old favorites. I've found that as I mature, returning to those old friends allows me to discover new meaning in them. They always feel fresh. Last week I reread Arthur Miller's The Crucible (it felt like a good pick for autumn) and this week I am tasting Kurt Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions for the very first time.
If you are hunting for a good read this autumn, I recommend these delicious picks:
Feel free to comment with your favorites!
