A Literary Essence of Thora

On Aleatha's blog she made a list of 10 books. I too wanted to make such a list (in fact, everyone who heard of the idea has also been making a list of ten books as well), and so here it is. My list of books are not always ones that changed my life, but more are old friends, that I love, and maybe have changed me by that love, rather than any brilliance.

1. Anne's House of Dreams, by Lucy Maud Montgomery. I've always loved Anne; when I was a child it was Anne of Green Gables, but as I've grown up, I've found that I appreciate the older Anne more than I ever had before. I love Anne; I've always wanted to be Anne, and have red hair, live on PEI, and marry Gilbert. In Anne's House of Dreams she gets to do all three. Plus she has her own little home, and is a newly wed. The next book picks up when she has five children, so this is the only young, married Anne. If I couldn't be Anne, the next best thing would be to be her friend. And to me these books are my friends.

2. These Happy Golden Years, by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I've also always wanted to be a pioneer. I've loved reading about Laura and her family, and even better knowing that they really lived. I picked this specific book because she's also older in this one, and it's a good, prosperous time for the Ingalls family. I've always wanted to have been born in the last century, instead of when I was born.

3.Praise to the Man, book 6 of the Work and the Glory series, Gerald Lund. Pioneers and the Church; how can you go wrong? Nauvoo is my favourite of the restoration time period, and although Joseph Smith dies in this book, in a way its the beginning of the end of persecution for the Saints, because soon they will move to the Rocky Mountains and live in peace. I love pioneers, and when I was a child I would lay down in our backyard, which was where George Q. Cannon's orchards were originally, and where still today many fruit trees grow, and hope that if I fell asleep in just a certain way out there, I would wake up a hundred years previously and get to be a pioneer. Sadly, this never occurred, and so I've had to read about the time period as a second-class prize instead.

4.Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte ( I think). I'm a sucker for romances, particularly British, upper-class 19th century ones.

5.Persuasion, Jane Austin. see above. Also, I love this particular book out of all of Jane Austin's because the heroine is so mature and likable. Although I love Pride and Prejudice, sometimes what Elizabeth really needs is some good parental discipline (ie, a spanking{I don't actually believe in corporal punishment, don't worry}). Elizabeth is very witty and intelligent, and hence interesting to read about, but Jane is someone with whom I would like as a friend; I could trust her. And I love uplifting people, perhaps because sometimes I"m rather catty or critical, and I don't like that part of myself. I'd much rather be someone who was nice all the time, because then people could always trust me with everything, because they would know that I would never make fun of them later for what they said. Like Jane, who reminds me of Carol Crapo Vezzani, because of their forthright kindness. (Gentle Reader; I didn't have a copy of the book nearby, so if the heroine's name actually turns out to be Hephzibah or something, just make the appropriate substitutions).

6.Sonnets from the Portuguese, Elizabeth Barrett Browning. I don't like poetry. It's true, 'tis a pity. I'm rather embarrassed to admit this, because I instinctively feel that the onus of this dislike lies within me, and is not indicative of the true status and worth of poetry at all. Unfortunately this doesn't mean I really like it any better. I grow bored while reading poetry, and am never carried away by it, unlike with novels. I guess I just prefer a great celebration of words, with adjectives, synonyms and other verbal profusions next to a few, carefully chosen words to describe all. Anyone who has heard me talk can attest that I follow this guiding principle in my own speech. You may be asking yourself at this point why I am having an anti-poetical diatribe at this point, under a listing of sonnets.

For whatever reason, Sonnets from the Portuguese remains the only true sole exception to my feelings on poetry (excepting perhaps Leaves of Grass, which I also love. However, I've never actually finished it, so it can't count on this list, nor can I consider the whole work. Also, I love the idea of Idylls of the King, partly because Anne (see #1) loved it, but I've also never read much of it, because it was due at the library).

When I was a child, Don (my step-father) gave me a small, dark blue copy of these Sonnets, that had belonged to his mother Bea, and came from sometime between 1930-1950s. I loved this book. I still love this book, and still own it. It sat proudly on my handsome books' shelf. Although I love the sonnets by themselves, I must admit my love for them is greatly increased when I read them out of my own copy. Reading is such a physical experience with the book one reads. That's why I don't like reading on the computer. I've read it countless times, and whenever I've liked a boy (I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit this), there has been a particular sonnet in the book that I came to associate with him. Avram's turned out to be "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways...," because of these lines, "I love thee with a passion put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith...--I love thee with the breath, smiles and tears of all my life! --And, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death."

Even as I write these lines, my heart thrills to them. They contain so much, in so little space; a life of love, eternal marriage, a lot more that she says better than I. I do realize as I write these words that I'm currently showing why sometimes less words are better than more, but hey, I'm an inconsistent person, so I don't care if I both refute poetry for the same reasons I love it. Moving on from this Paean....

7.The Grey King, Susan Cooper. I love the whole series (I tend to love series, have you noticed?), but this is the best, in my opinion. That, and the first one, The Dark is Rising, which is also the name of the series. I love the old traditions of the book. I love the very Britishness of it. I love it that Will Stanton has 10 or so siblings (I don't know for sure), because people in books never seem to have more siblings than will come into the plot comfortably. The only thing I don't like about the series is that Christianity is somehow outside of the battle of Good vs. Evil. This book is also special in that it is one of only three books on this list that weren't either written in or written about the 19th century. What can I say? I love that century. Of course, this book does take place in Britain, so that may make up for it.

8.Beauty, Robin McKinley. I also love Deerskin, although these two are very different books. I love fairy tales, and Robin writes fairy tales, not fantasy (there is a difference). These are two old friends books. They're not life changing, but they are a comfort and very re-readable. Deerskin is a dark fairy tale, but anyone who's read the complete Grimm's fairy tales has a grounding in just how many fairy tales are very different than we tend to think of them today as.

9.Jonathon Strange & Mr. Norrell, Susanna Clarke. This book is unusual as well; I've only read it once, while the rest I've read countless times. However, it's the first book I've read in several years that has really hit me. She writes with the style of Jane Austin meeting a research book, while going into subjects (magick) and angles that real Nineteenth century Authors never would have. It's a gem, and a hefty one, weighing in at 800 pages.

10.Silver Pennies, collected children's poems (published in 1952.) This is another entry where the specific book is as meaningful as the poems. When my Great Grandmother died, my Grandmother gave my mother this book of poems from the little money that she received as an inheritance. In turn, I've come to possess it, and I love its history. My favorite poem from this collection is "The Spirit of the Birch," by Arthur Ketchum, although I've been unable to find the actual poem. If anyone can get it, please send it too me, as my book is packed up. This poem made me want to be a dryad, and I used to make up short stories about dryads, which I would tell Halley every night when we shared a room. The dryad's name was Myriam who of course, compliments of this poem, was a birch dryad, and her father was an oak dryad. Although this was a "Mary Sue" (ask Avram), it was a lovely one.

Looking over this list, one learns that I love the nineteenth century (7of10), England (50f10), and reading about a girl's life (50f10).

What books move you, dear reader?