The Books That Made Me

I read a novel the other day about lessons a writer learned from her favorite books as a child. I entered the novel with starry eyes, excited to see what she thought about some of my favorite heroines (Anne of Green Gables, Lizzie Bennet, the Little Mermaid, etc.).

I was so sad to find before me an obnoxious feminist manifesto.

The author waxed eloquent about the patriarchy and how Sleeping Beauty should’ve saved herself and if she said feminist one more time I was going to BURN this novel (very glad I just borrowed from the library and didn’t purchase off Amazon).

I was so sad. How could someone read the same novels I did and come away with such a different perspective of life? How could she take some of the most dearest characters I know and instead make them pinnacles of (or even mousey antitheses of) the feminist movement?

So, I decided to write my own essays instead. Here you will find real, raw truth. Perhaps some of these dear characters should’ve spoken up more, or had strange ideas, and no author is a saint. But I wish to share the more uplifting messages, the—dare I say it—TRUE messages, that I found in the books that made me.

I looked through my library history: here’s what I found.

It was so strangely intimate to look through my library history. I no longer have an active Greenville County Library Card (one of the first things I did when I moved to Los Angeles was get an LA library card), but I’m so glad I was still able to log in to reminisce. The history goes all the way back to 2011 (I would’ve been 10). Many of the records are now removed—the books were probably too dogeared (not because of me, for sure).

I saw a pattern, and some of it brought tears to my eyes. We are all little kids who grew up, little kids who had interests that bloom into hobbies, habits, and occupations when we grow older.

I saw an obvious trend of topics; I was fascinated by the shocking stories of Marie Antoinette, the Titanic, the Bermuda Triangle, and anything World War II. I repeatedly checked out an American Girl book about liking yourself even on your worst days ( I don’t remember, had I been dealing with insecurity even at the ripe old age of 10?). Even that far back, I saw an ode to my love of mystery/true crime with my constant checking out of Nancy Drew and other mystery novels.

At one point, it seems I was planning on getting a guinea pig because there are multiple books about guinea pig care (I never ended up getting one). There’s also a time period where I was interested in photography (still am), drawing (particularly fashion, which I still want to get into), and always visual things such as symbols and stained glass (so my love of proofreading and even graphic design may have roots there).

But, among all those books, I want to highlight a few that sculpted me into who I am now. Over the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing my thoughts on the books that made me. Hope you guys enjoy!