(Re)ading

The less young I get, the more I realize how many books I will never read, much less re-read.  However, from time to time, some impulse moves me to re-read a certain book.  Upon those occasions, I find it interesting how my reactions differ.  Usually, books that I first read in high school, I react to quite differently upon re-reading.  Of course, life experiences inform re-reading and form new reactions.  With books that I read in adulthood, the reaction usually does not differ much from the initial reading although the pleasure of finding new nuances grows.

For example, I first read A Separate Peace in high school and enjoyed it very much. When I began teacher certification work about 15 years ago, I re-read it.  Since I had enjoyed it in high school, I expected to enjoy it again as an adult. However, the fascination I originally felt for the book in high school eluded me.  Fortunately for me—and for the students—I rarely had to teach it.

I read Portnoy’s Complaint initially in 10^th or 11^th grade—1972-ish—and was absolutely horrified, much to my boyfriend’s amusement.  The book has received notice again of late, so I decided to re-read it.  I am about two-thirds of the way through and cannot stop laughing.

One of the joys of substitute teaching is perusing the bookshelves in the various rooms I pass through.  Last year, I ran across a book I read in high school, Mr. and Mrs. Bo Jo Jones by Ann Head, published in 1968.  I remembered reading it largely because of the unique name, Bo Jo Jones; but also I remembered vaguely that the book deals with a high school couple who end up in a shotgun marriage.  It was sobering to recall the attitudes towards teenage pregnancies in that time period and fascinating to compare the teens of the 1960’s with the teens of the early 21^st century.  The girl had to drop out of high school, while her football player husband was allowed to continue attending classes.

In this case, I found the re-reading absorbing and had the book open at every occasion.  I was re-reading one day in a faculty lounge while subbing.  A lone teacher’s aide was in the lounge, as well.  I had forgotten some events near the end of the book, and quite taken by surprise, I began softly weeping.  Embarrassed, I felt compelled to explain briefly to her the premise of the book and that certain events, which I had forgotten, moved me to tears.  We had a nice conversation about how attitudes towards unmarried pregnancies have changed and how unmarried pregnancies affected both of our lives.

Several years ago on Facebook, a challenge went around to list, on the spur of a moment, twenty books that you had found notable.  My list exists somewhere in that Cloudland.  I will close with two books that pop to mind immediately that I have re-read numerous time for pleasure: John Kennedy Toole’s A Confederacy of Dunces and Jane Smiley’s A Thousand Acres.  Finally, I issue a challenge--in the face of impossibly long to-read lists, that you indulge in the pleasure of re-reading a book.

NOTE:  I considered writing about the etymology of the word “read,” but that discussion is not truly relevant to re-reading.  For those of you who care, or who want some obscure fact at hand for use at a boring party, the word “read” is a truly English word.  The English Language comes from Germanic origins, the invading Angles, Saxons, Jutes, Frisians, and other hangers-on.  “Read” comes from the language of those tribes.  (And to think that those invaders are blamed for the “Dark” Ages!)