A few years ago, I created several lists of books that changed my life: girlhood, adolescence, undergraduate and M.A. editions. When a friend from grad school recently asked for some of my favorite literature and theory books, I realized that I never wrote about books from my Ph.D. or later. (I believe this is because I wrote most of these lists in 2008, the same year I finished my Ph.D. and didn't have time to reflect on the experiences of my Ph.D. reading). Most of this list is comprised of reading for coursework or my dissertation process. I don't think I read many books just for fun for five years. However, there were books I read for class that were enjoyable, challenging, and changed my perspective on things.
When people find out I teach English, they often ask me my favorite book and while I feel like it's tough to choose, the book I come back to again and again is Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. The biggest reason for this is the role it played in my Ph.D. program and research process. I have told this story before.
Reading Frankenstein again at the moment I needed it rescued me from doubt, writer's block, and more during my Ph.D. studies. Writing about the novel gave me back my voice, but getting lost in the story, made me think about all the ways we fail and how the consequences of our reaction and experience of failure shape us. It's also a really intriguing novel for students, once they get past how they're supposed to read it. I love teaching it.
One of my first semesters in Ph.D. coursework I took a Postmodern Literature course, which was amazing not only because of the texts we read, (and I didn't love all of them) but also because of the professor. The final essay I wrote for the class began an interest in place and architecture that shows up in a lot of my research. But the book that really captivated me was a collection of A.M. Homes short stories, The Safety of Objects. I had not until then read many collections of short stories, certainly not ones that were as sad and weird and honest as Homes' are.
Penelople Lively's Making it Up has a strange spot on this list because I did not read it as part of class, though it contributed it significantly to my creative non-fiction and to my understanding of narrative and story. Lively calls the book an anti-memoir and she imagines the what-might-have-beens of her life while also revealing truths about herself. Narratively, it's ambitious and there are times it feels like a device, but the overall effect is strange and powerful and worthwhile.
The Dream Sequence by Kate Hunter is another anomaly because I'm not sure exactly why I picked it up other than it was a novella that sounded strange. In the story, a woman wakes up with amnesia and consults a witch doctor who tells her she has been cursed. It's in the protagonist's interactions with other characters who recognize her but that she doesn't know, that compelling questions about identity arise. I've been mentioning this story in conversations lately and realized just how much it stayed with me. There's a fascinating commentary on memory and why we long to connect with others, and scenes I come back to again and again.
The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera. I read this one summer for a class that really bent my mind. We were studying cognitive poetics, which asks you, as a reader, to consider how you are processing the text as you read it, the contexts of your understanding as you form a relationship with the text. It was very mind-bendy for me. And I fell in love with this novel. The narrative is non-linear and it's a novel that is conscious of itself in these really interesting ways because it's attempting to explore Nietzche's idea that our experiences happen cyclically in a state of eternal recurrence; everything has happened before and will continue to happen over and over again.
Pierre Bourdieu's books, Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgment of Taste and The Cultural Field of Production were hugely influential and remain the basis for some of my theories on social media participation. It took me a long time to become comfortable with his work, and I'm still not always sure I have a strong handle on some of it.
Technologies of the Gendered Body by Anne Basalmo, and Writing on the Body: Female Embodiment and Feminist Theory, particularly Rosi Braidotti's chapter "Monsters, Mothers, and Machines" were instrumental in deepening my interest in and understanding of feminist theory. I relied on both texts to inform my work on Frankenstein, but beyond that I started to feel that not only did I get what the women in these texts were arguing but that my voice could belong to the chorus. Because the project came at a time when I felt like I'd lost my muchness, my voice, my ability to say something, these texts remain an important part of my scholarly work then and now.
Yi Fu Tuan's Space and Place: The Perspective of Experience entered my scholarly life unexpectedly and there's not a day that I don't think about or try to teach students about Tuan's theories. In the Postmodern Lit course I took above, I wrote an essay on the ways in which spaces, architectures, locations in two texts reveal something about the characters and their psychology. It was the first time I considered place in a way that was experiential but also embodied and gendered. I had not yet read Tuan's work and so much of my essay focuses on gendered spaces. If I'd had Tuan's theories to add to the work I was doing, I might have continued to work on the piece. Years later when I would first read Tuan, it felt like I finally understood my conflictedness about being in-between places. It would take longer for me to theorize that conflict but eventually, I used Tuan's work in my dissertation and subsequent article on place.
I enjoy writing about what I read, and recommending books to others. I love discovering new voices, new perspectives, books that make me think, ask questions, entertain me and capture my imagination. Not all texts do all things. In writing about books that have impacted me, I'm able to articulate some of my reading experiences in a way that inspires others to think about their own reading histories. Why do we read what we do? How do we allow it to change us?
What books throughout your life as a reader have changed you?