Books that built me
The pages I’ve consumed since I first started to read, through today, have become essential to me, building and changing and rearranging all the parts of me at different times in my life.
I read His Majesty, Queen Hatshepsut (Dorothy Sharp Carter), the story of an Egyptian queen who names herself pharaoh. She presided over upper and lower Egypt and dismantled patriarchy for a time. Women could be leaders. Women had led. My young spine straightened and I set my sights a few degrees higher.
I read Beloved (Toni Morrison) and learned that the cry of the hurt was sometimes not much more than a whisper. My ears strained to listen, then to hear and grow into organs of compassion.
I read To Kill a Mockingbird (Harper Lee) and learned that injustice wasn’t nearly as tragic as inaction. Atticus Finch stood up so that his children would live in a more just world. I grew fingers that would curl with the healthy tension of outrage.
I read Zorba the Greek (Nikos Kazantzakis). Zorba pulled his bookish friend into nights of debauchery. My legs twitched with a promise never to shy from celebration.
As a girl As a teen As an adult As a sleep-deprived student As a fresh-faced doctor
I read the witty and satirical The House of God (Samuel Shem). Medicine could break down the healer. It could make her weary and jaded and cynical unless she made a conscious effort to stay human first and foremost.
I read Love in the Time of Cholera (Gabriel García Márquez). How beautiful and sad was the devotion of Florentino Ariza for Fermina Daza! Was it possible to pine so steadfastly for one unattainable person? Love, I learned, could be loud or quiet, quick or slow. My heart grew stronger, wiser.
I read The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver), a story about Nathan Price’s mission to save the soul of the Belgian Congo. His good intentions are met with bewilderment. No one wants to be baptised in the river thick with crocodiles. My eyes sharpened.
I read Bossy Pants. Tina Fey’s letter to her daughter is hilarious and insightful. How empowering and important it is to chuckle at ourselves, to see humour even when we’re stricken with fear about the world our children will venture into!
The books I’ve written have built me, too. I’ve infused them with the stories of my family: the uncle who hiked across mountains to escape into Iran, the grandmother who gave her children the motherly love she never felt. Their legacies are the bones that hold me up.
As a woman As a citizen As a mother
LINK LOVE: Largehearted Boy is a blog that is dedicated to where music and literature meet. Click on the book note series where authors discuss a music playlist that relates to their latest book. http://bit.ly/booksmusic