Since the magic day in the first grade when I learned to read, I have always revered writers and books. And that made it especially hard to choose, from the universe of books I’ve consumed and incorporated, the five singular stars that had the largest part in shaping what passes as me. After all, I used to play hooky from school to sit in a dark closet with a flashlight reading books I couldn’t wait to finish, while my night-worker father slept just a few feet away, largely because the books my teachers wanted me to read didn’t really appeal to me. And having read Alfred Tatum’s work and been blown away by the power of the textual lineage concept, the idea of picking just five books seemed somehow disloyal to all the ones not chosen. But they’ll get over it. Here are my five.365 Bedtime Stories by Nan Gilbert: This was the first book in my life, the book that I learned to read with. It was refuge, sanctuary, and magic wand. I could open the covers, turn to a page, and escape from reality into an idyllic suburban world where the grass was always green, people were always nice, and big brothers were helpful. Unfortunately, the 365 stories were consumed in something less than three weeks.
Being and Nothingness by Jean Paul Sartre: Yeah, I know. How tedious. But I read this when I was 18 and a freshman in City College of New York. It was recommended by a teacher and that was good enough for me. Having left home at 17, I was searching for meaning, structure, and some guiding principals to help make sense of life. And I’ve always felt that Sartre, and existentialism, offer a blueprint on how to create meaning in a world that offers precious little of it.
Walden by Henry David Thoreau: This is another book from college, from a course taught jointly by professors of American literature and a professor of American history. Personal freedom has always meant more to me than just about anything else. This book spoke to me about what to do with that freedom, and how to separate the meaningful and important in life from the trivial and worthless.
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain: I read Tom Sawyer when I was 11. I read Huckleberry Finn a couple of years later, thinking it would be just another splendid adventure story. On one level it is, but this book has so many layers of meaning that every time I touch it, I learn something from it, about morality, about the character of individual people, and about the American character itself, which I think is unique. To me, Huckleberry Finn is like a magic treasure chest that spews gold coins every time you pop it open.
Just Me and My Dad by Mercer Mayer: I was 23 when my son, my first child, was born. And having had first-hand experience about how not to be a parent I was eager to do everything right. So I read to him every time he would let me and this became his all-time favorite book. Silly as it sounds, my son’s response to other books and to this one helped guide some of the child-rearing decisions I made as a new parent. And when my son was three, we rewrote the book together and renamed it Just Me and My Son.
There you have it -- Russell's Bookprint. Even if you're not ready to create your own Bookprint yet, check out You Are What You Read -- it offers a fascinating glimpse of what the world is reading, including some amazing Names You Know, and even an intriguing look at the books that are included in Bookprints the most often. Maybe one of yours is on there, too!
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Previously On Our Minds:
* The books worth sharing: A "My Bookprint" guest post
* Reading full circle: A "My Bookprint" guest post
* Introducing You Are What You Read!
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