Where Were You…
By Keith Cronin | September 11, 2012 |
…when a book kicked your ass?
Today’s date tends to evoke a lot of “I remember where I was when…” memories, so I thought I’d explore that notion, but taking it in a less painful direction.
Powerful memories and landmark events can etch themselves permanently in our psyches. One of the things that binds people together generationally is the group of shared cultural touchpoints that shaped their youth. In my case, that would include JFK, the Beatles, the Viet Nam war, Martin Luther King, the moon landing, Watergate, and of course the introduction of bell-bottom pants. (No, I don’t still own a pair. However, I do find it interesting that we put a man on the moon before anybody thought of putting wheels on suitcases. But I digress…)
The kind of memories I’ve cited above influenced the lives of countless people. But today I’d like to talk about the memories that influence us at an individual level, often just as powerfully. For a writer, such a memory could be formed by reading a book that literally changes your life. So in this post I’m going to explore a few books that kicked my ass so thoroughly that I can still remember where I was when I first read them.
A rare moment of shameless self promotion
Before I go on, I’m going to take a moment to do what I can assure you will be a rare piece of self-promotion here at WU. I’m pleased to announce that my novel Me Again is now available on Kindle.
The book came out one year ago in hardcover only – just my luck, the same year that pretty much everybody on the planet got an e-reader. So I’m thrilled to finally be contractually able to offer an e-version of the book at a far more attractive price. You can download a free sample to get a taste of the rather rare genre of “funny novels about brain damage” by clicking here.
Ahem – thank you. We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.
The Wonder Years: books that kicked my then-youthful butt
When I started drafting this, I quickly realized it was going to be WAY too long for a single post. So the following is a far-from-comprehensive look at just a few of the books that had a huge impact on me early in life. In fact, I read most of these before I began to get serious about my own writing, which shows that their influence was not only powerful, but apparently permanent. If people find this topic interesting, I may follow up with some more recent books that were similarly influential.
The Greatest Thing Since Sliced Bread – Don Robertson
Where was I when I read it? Sitting in my sixth-grade classroom
I’m not really sure why our sixth-grade English teacher chose to read this book aloud to us – after all, sixth graders seem a little old for “story time” – but I’m awfully glad she did. Although the protagonist is a nine-year-old boy, there was a warts-and-all honesty about the book that made the story seem very… adult, for lack of a better word. The characters weren’t perfect or stereotypical, there were messy problems, ugly people, and a gut-wrenching tragedy at the book’s climax, but it was all delivered with such candor and humor that I couldn’t wait to hear what happened next.
I don’t know how else to say it: I felt like this book was leveling with me, giving it to me straight. It was probably the first time that I felt a book about a child wasn’t treating me like a child, by hiding or sugar-coating or dumbing anything down for me. I went on to read the three books Robertson wrote about that same boy as he matured, a trilogy that mixed humor and adolescent misery with a candor I’d never before seen. In a sense, I grew up with that boy, and have never forgotten him.
First Blood – David Morrell
Where was I when I read it? My childhood second home: the library
I discovered this book when I was still a young boy in the early 70’s, living in fear of the war in Viet Nam that was slowly eating up the older boys in my neighborhood. In addition to being packed with incredibly gripping action, this was one of the first books that captured how disenfranchised many Viet Nam veterans felt upon their return to the States. I re-read the book countless times, and it was a huge influence on my early writing, before my tastes (and my lack of talent at writing dark action/suspense) led me to lighter fare.
I was fortunate enough to meet David Morrell at a literary conference a few years ago, and I told him how much his work had meant to me. He was extremely easy to talk to, and he spent a long time chatting with me, during which he shared that this was the first book he had written using “the classic three-act structure.” I’ve still never developed the ability to think of books (or movies) in terms of acts, but I gotta say, whatever he did, it freaking worked. If your only exposure to this story is through Sylvester Stallone movies, pick up a copy of this book. And consider the guts and insight it took to write this while the Viet Nam war was still raging.
The Stand – Stephen King
Where was I when I read it? On the top bunk in my dorm room at Indiana University
This book gave me a sense of what it’s like to be addicted to something. The sheer size of this book made it impossible to devour in one sitting, so it took me a good number of days to get through it. But oh, the cravings! Whenever I was being kept away from the book – you know, by trivial things like bathing, attending class, practicing my music lessons, and so on – I kept finding myself frantically planning when I might be able to squeeze in my next reading session. Like a smoker sprinting outside for a quick nicotine fix, I would thumb hungrily through through a few pages between classes to help ease the pain of being separated from that story.
Talk about a page-turner. I don’t think any book before or since has had that kind of grip on me. I’m not saying it’s a perfect book. I found King’s reliance on sudden character-killing explosions to be a bit of a cop-out, but still I could not wait to find out what happened next. And it was also a great unifying social bond – everybody I talked to who was reading it at the time seemed to be having similar experiences, so we could commiserate together over our shared addiction. Powerful stuff, this storytelling.
Bright Lights Big City – Jay McInerney
Where was I when I read it? On a tour bus, motor-home, airplane or van
(Okay, I spent most of the 80’s touring in bands, so I can’t tell you exactly where I was. My whereabouts and mode of transportation during that era tend to blur together in my memories, no doubt exacerbated by a significant dosage of imported beer.)
Two words describe this novel best: time capsule. This book vividly captures the cocaine-fueled mid-80’s, when suddenly everything seemed possible, but dammit, people still weren’t happy. But it isn’t just through faithful reporting of period-specific details that this effect is created. McInerney took the bold step of writing this from a very unusual point of view: second-person present tense. This means the main character in the book is, well, you. If that doesn’t make sense, check out how the book opens:
You are not the kind of guy who would be at a place like this at this time of the morning. But here you are, and you cannot say that the terrain is entirely unfamiliar, although the details are fuzzy. You are at a nightclub talking to a girl with a shaved head. The club is either Heartbreak or the Lizard Lounge. All might come clear if you could just slip into the bathroom and do a little more Bolivian Marching Powder. Then again, it might not. A small voice inside you insists that this epidemic lack of clarity is a result of too much of that already.”
The more “schooled” you are in writing technique, the more jarring that approach is likely to seem. But somehow it works, and by using this POV the author takes even those of us whose lives are far removed from that of this coked-out Manhattanite, and makes that guy’s problems and his perspective become your perspective. When I first read this I don’t think I had enough technical chops to recognize exactly how he was doing it, but even at an instinctive level, I knew this author was taking me to a place I’d never been – and it’s a place I’ve never forgotten.
Just the tip of the iceberg…
There are many, many more, but this post is already nearly as long as a Stephen King book, so I’ll stop. But now I want to hear from YOU:
Does this resonate? Should I go on? More importantly, what are some books that had a lasting impact on you? And where were you when they kicked your ass?
I’d love to hear your stories. Thanks for reading!
Image licensed from iStockphoto.com
Author of the novels Me Again (originally published by Five Star/Gale), and Tony Partly Cloudy (published under his pen name Nick Rollins), Keith Cronin (he/him) is a corporate speechwriter and professional rock drummer who has performed and recorded with artists including Bruce Springsteen, Clarence Clemons, and Pat Travers. Keith’s fiction has appeared in Carve Magazine, Amarillo Bay, The Scruffy Dog Review, Zinos, and a University of Phoenix management course. A native of South Florida, Keith spends his free time serenading local ducks and alligators with his ukulele.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: I was reading during summer class, while I slip it into the desk when I wasn’t reading it.
I Am the Messenger: I partly read in a park my little sibling was playing a soccer game at.
Divergent: I was reading a lot of it on my Dad’s back porch.
Thanks, Chihuahua (wow, that’s hard for me to spell)!
Nice to see I’m not the only one who remembers my surroundings during a memorable read.
THE STAND is one of my all time favorite books. I read it when I was probably way too young to read it (like most of his books) and I don’t remember where I was BUT I do remember it being one of the first books I read where I realized a main character, one I truly liked, could die. I sat there, flipping the pages of that scene back and forth, thinking I missed something or it was a mistake or a dream. As a reader, I was no longer safe, anything could happen. As a young writer, I saw the power a moment like that could have for readers if you created excellent characters.
Madeline, I LOVE this remark: “As a reader, I was no longer safe, anything could happen.”
It takes a brave author to take advantage of that, and boy, King certainly did in that book.
Thanks for replying!
Provocative question, Keith. Three books come to mind:
* The Virginian by Owen Wister, 13 yrs old in KY family home. Introduced me to setting and pace and the feel of the ‘real’ old west. First book I read on my own without assignment.
* Ethnic America by Thomas Sowell, 44, another family home (mine). Revealed that ethnic patterns happen for reasons beyond bigoted stereotypes.
* Passages by Gail Sheehy, 43, same home. Showed the phases of adult behavior that got me through a separation and divorce.
One fiction, two non-fiction. Big impacts.
Thanks for replying, Alex. It’s interesting – and as a writer, encouraging – to see that books can continue to have a major impact on your life at any age.
Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier.
I read it in my parent’s house in my old bedroom—for HOURS.
I was in the early throws of high school at the time, so I remember reading it while snuggled under my covers WAY too late at night. I think the latest I stayed up reading it was 3:30 AM on a SCHOOL NIGHT! LOL. Thank you, Juliet! That book literally helped to shape my entire life as a person and writer!
Wow, I’m honoured! (blushes)
How cool is this? Reader and author connecting!
Nice!
I do most of my reading during my lunch hour, which leads to interesting sparks of nostalgia. When I go back and visit the same restaurant where something vivid happened in a book I read, the whole establishment becomes associated with that book in my mind.
As a result, I end up eating at places like the Mistborn Chili’s, the Lost Fleet BBQ, and the Macaroni Grill of Calderon.
Thanks, Chro!
I can relate to the reading-in-the-same-place thing. I used to commute a lot, and would listen to audio books to keep from feeling like the time was wasted. So there are a few stretches of Florida roadways where I’ve had many a memorable literary experience.
I’ll never forget my second grade teacher, Ms. Purcell, reading Winnie the Pooh to the class and using different voices for the characters.
Thanks, Mary – there’s something special about having a story read to you, isn’t there?
Like Vaughn in his post below, probably my earliest such memory was Charlotte’s Web. Good stuff!
For me, your teacher reading aloud thingy was Charlotte’s Web, but in third grade. I could. not. wait. for story hour each day. It taught me the power of storytelling. It’s probably no surprise that the for the fantasy geek, it all starts with The Hobbit and LOTR.
Another powerful one for me came when my mom gave me a copy of The Far Pavilions, by M.M. Kay. She told me I’d like it, but it looked and sounded like a romance novel. I set it aside, and only picked it back up for lack of anything else to read one night. I was floored! Exotic India, adventure (and, yeah, romance). Stayed up reading in bed half the night, then stumbled to the bus stop and spent mornings in a school daze until I was done.
Dune was the one that got me in the dorm room. Showed me the possibilities for world-building are endless. More recently, Kushiel’s Dart, by Jacqueline Carey renewed the lesson.
Fun stuff, Keith! Love the tidbit about First Blood being his first three-act structure work. I think I’d better read that. Thanks for lightening the mood today.
Thanks for chiming in, Vaughn.
It’s funny how sometimes the things we enjoy the most are things we initially resist. I was that way with Friday Night Lights. Glad you gave The Far Pavilions a second chance – I’ll have to check that out!
Where the Red Fern Grows. Read by my 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Gillfillan.
I love how Mrs. Gillfillan connected me to that story, and how that story still connects me to Mrs. Gillfillan.
Nice one, Sarah – thanks for replying.
Wow, now I’m getting sentimental about my 6th-grade teacher. I’d love to find her, but as I recall she got married and changed her name, so I’m not sure what her name is now. But she definitely planted a seed when she read that book to us.
I remember lying in my bed, reading, nearly every Sunday afternoon as a high school freshman. Gone with the Wind and Rebecca were two of my favorites. I grew up in the south, post Civil Rights Act. I was enthralled with the Scarlett O’Hara and Miss Melanie characters, educated by the story of the war and its hardships, and enlightened to consider the lingering effects of slavery.
Thanks, Bayney.
Sounds like you had a cool “reading ritual” going on!
The Emily of New Moon books by L.M. Montgomery in Swedish translation at my aunt’s house. I was about 9 years old and badly needed Emily as a role model – her determination when it came to writing – since nobody around me acknowledged the writing side of me, not even my aunt, who understood me better than anybody else.
As a 20-year-old I remember sweeping our forest hut on leaving it after Easter while avidly reading The Magus by John Fowles. There were only a few pages left and I literally couldn’t put the book down.
I’ve loved many books since but none as intensely.
Ooooh – The Magus! That IS a hypnotic book. I went on a major Fowles kick many years ago. He’s an author I always had to read with a dictionary close at hand, but I didn’t mind, because his word choices were SO precise and so perfect.
Thanks for your reply, Maria!
I remember picking up Dragonsong in 7th grade at our library because the cover looked cool and getting hooked into Anne McCaffrey, fantasy, sci-fi, and everything wonderful in genre fiction. My dad, when he heard me racing about the book I was reading handed me his volume hardback copy of the Dragonriders of Pern. He’s never gotten it back.
Tristi
Raving, not racing. It’s early. *blush*
Thanks, Tristi.
The sign of a well-loved book is the “loaner” that is never returned!
In seventh grade, we had a nun who must have been 100 years old. She could never keep control of the class, and even the good kids were bad. Before the time of switching classes, our math had to be taught by the 6th grade teacher, English by the 8th. I will never forget the week our little old nun read a book to us, and the only sound in the room was her voice telling us that story. I have no idea what book it was — maybe something about baseball — but I’ll never forget the moment I realized how quiet the room was and what power a story can have on people.
Great story, Carmel.
What an awesome lesson that turned out to be!
I learned something from her after all, didn’t I?
The Bobsey Twins series in our tiny little home. My mom bought them for me at a rummage sale when I was 7 or 8 years old. I probably read them several times before passing them on.
The Thornbirds – young adult, mother of 2 little ones. I read that book in every room of the house, just could not put it down. Father Ralph was the hottest thing in paperback at that time, the early 80s I think.
Gone With The Wind – I don’t remember where or when, but read it a few times over the years.
I’m such a sap for true love and romance.
This was a great post, Keith!
Bobbsey Twins, eh? I was more of a Hardy Boys guy myself. And wow, I remember the way The Thornbirds took over the collective consciousness for a while.
Great memories – thanks for sharing them, Marilyn!
Interview with the Vampire. My brother and I read it aloud to each other by flashlight in a pup tent on a family camp out. We couldn’t take the short trek to the campground bathrooms after that, and had to hold our pee ’til morning. We met the daylight hours with great relief we hadn’t been bitten, and we continued to read through the day and night, because we couldn’t put the book down. We also wouldn’t let our little sister (a blonde) sleep in the tent with us, after encountering Rice’s little golden haired vamp.
Bernadette – thanks for reminding me! I totally fell under the spell of Rice’s early books.
What a feat, taking such an ancient and pervasive piece of folklore, and managing to create an entire new mythology and backstory for it!
Books have effected me all my life. I guess the latest was the first Jennifer Crusie book I read, Agnes and the Hitman. I was fairly isolated at the time. Taking care of my father who was ill.
That book led me to a whole world of other authors and to Crusie’s website. (I’m clever cherry and I think I’ve encountered you there, Keith.)
Crusie’s website led me back to writing,which I had given up for a number of years.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Judy, Judy, Judy! (sorry – couldn’t resist)
Jennifer Crusie is awesome. In addition to being a great and versatile writer, she gives so much back to other writers. It was a huge thrill for me to actually meet her in person last year, and she was SO nice to me.
Something I really like about her writing is that even though she has a reputation for “keeping it light” in a lot of her books, she’s not afraid to raise the stakes REALLY high, often resulting in some very serious consequences. I’ve learned a lot from her, and am sure I will continue to do so.
When I was 11, I bought the book Please Don’t Eat the Daisies. I read the entire book outloud to my mom and we laughed at how funny it was. That’s when I decided to that I wanted to write humor, too. I try each week to be funny in my column and whenever I have someone tell me they enjoyed it, I always say a prayer of thanks to Jean Kerr.
Colleen, I remember that book!
We had a fair amount of humorous books in my house growing up, including that one, some Erma Bombeck, and some others that are floating just out of range of my memory at the moment. I can definitely trace a lot of my humor to some very early influences. Thanks for chiming in!
On a flight from London to Chicago. I was reading THE BOOK THIEF. Could NOT put it down, which was good since a) the flight was a long one and b) I had suffered from food poisoning the day before, ruining the last of my vacation in England. That book remains at the very top of my BEST BOOKS OF ALL TIME list.
The Book Thief is in my TBR pile, Melissa.
I’m really enjoying reading about everyone’s ass-kicking books! I’m sure the WU community doesn’t need to hear me go on again about The Time Traveler’s Wife, but it’s the only book that has ever made me sob in a your-ass-was-just-kicked-to-the-moon sort of way.
Where was I? At home. Boring but true.
Therese, I recommend that book to everyone. It’s just so well done and just so brilliant. I’ve never read anything like it before or since.
Thanks, Therese! I had a love-hate relationship with that book, but she definitely created a powerful emotional impact. She had me crying in my car while I listened to the audio version.
We’re talking manly, lumberjack-type tears, of course – not the sissy kind. Honest.
Thanks, Melissa – I keep hearing about that book, and I need to check it out.
And I’ve definitely had some memorable book experiences on airplanes – for me, a long flight can be one of my best opportunities to get some reading done.
WYRD SISTERS by Terry Pratchett, in the back of my year eleven English Lit class where we were studying MACBETH.
Made the whole experience more enjoyable (and more surreal). It was my first Pratchett book but by no means my last.
Thanks, Kandace.
Now THAT sounds like a much better way to survive high school English than I ever came up with!
SciFi is not my favorite, but WOMAN ON THE EDGE OF TIME by Marge Percy had the power to blast me out of apathy. Like scifi is supposed to do, it found seeds in the world today that blossom in a future. But unlike most in the genre, it portrayed two possible futures, one utopian, one dystopian. And, most importantly, it showed how it’s the choices we make between possibilities in our present that will determine the future. We can/must make our history.
Skipper, what an awesome description you offered of that book. You’ve definitely got me intrigued – thank you!
THE SNOW GOOSE by Paul Gallico
Like you, Keith, my sixth grade teacher (Mrs. Moriarity-who embraced all that was MOD about the sixties–every outfit from head to toe was color coordinated) loved to read out loud. Whenever we were ahead in our studies she’d entertain us and ignite our imaginations with a book.
One day she change the tide and read a short story, THE SNOW GOOSE. From the opening line I believed Paul Gallico was writing about me. I was Frith, and for years I dreamed of living in a lighthouse on the edge of the sea. This peculiar love story was so simple and heartfelt, I knew there would be no other life for me than one as an artist.
Thanks for nudging me to remember.
Jocosa – isn’t that the best, when we feel like we’ve *become* the character we’re reading about? Powerful stuff.
And let me give your new book review site a shout-out:
Folks, there’s a great new book review site on the interwebs, with some really lovely and insightful perspectives on a wide range of books. Click on Jocosa’s screen name to check it out!
Aw, thanks Keith.
Ernest Hemingway’s tiny little book, The Old Man and the Sea was a guaranteed C or less for a high school book report. Only the most illiterate and lazy would dare settle for less; an old man went out and caught a big fish. That’s nice.
One day I made some off comment in class while defending myself, “At least I don’t read third grade books.” The next day the teacher handed me a copy and dared me with it.
That little book literally blew-my-mind-wide-open. I must have read it back-to-back at least a half-dozen times, finding so many layers locked in layers, challengeing every human emotion I possessed. I dare say that if I read it again another dozen times, my adult sensibilities would discover aspect my tenth-grade mind could never have imagined.
My book report would have made Hemingway proud and I dare say earned me not only an A+ but a life changing awareness as well.
Thanks, TR – that’s a great story. Well, they BOTH are: yours and Hemingway’s!
The Old Man and the Sea is a great introduction to Hemingway. And you’re right, there are a lot of layers and nuance in his seemingly simple language.
Just downloaded Me Again – thanks for making it Kindle friendly!
I’ll never forget reading the Haunting of Hill House, in my living room, my Mom in the kitchen, and being too afraid to yell for her.
Helter Skelter – reading in my a tiny apartment over a garage, looking down on the driveway, realizing I wasn’t as safe as I’d imagined.
Atlas Shrugged – the book that literally saved my life. I read it in a log cabin in the woods – and it gave me the guts to run from an abuser.
Books are powerful.
What a story!
THANK YOU, Laura – I hope you enjoy it!
And wow, talk about the power of the written word – thanks for sharing those experiences.
This brought back memories of reading The Shining and The Stand in high school. I used to go to gym class and tell the other girls the story in the locker room. I can recall changing into one of those hideous one-piece uniforms we used to wear and telling everyone what King had done so far. I also remember sleeping with the light on when I got to the part in The Shining where the topiary came alive. Good times….
Yeah, Carleen – Stephen King has scared the crap out of me numerous times. For me, It and Pet Sematary were probably the scariest.
But my brother made the mistake of reading The Stand while he had – wait for it – the flu! (To refresh anyone missing the reference, the first part of the book kills off the majority of the human race with a flu-like virus.)
Although he’s far from a hypochondriac, my brother said he swore he started feeling some of the symptoms described in King’s novel. Yikes!
[…] “Where Were You… When a Book Kicked Your Ass?” Keith Cronin, Writer Unboxed: When I interviewed Nebula and Hugo award winning sci-fi author Michael Swanwick on my 2010 cross-country road trip, he told me he knew he wanted to be a novelist when he picked up the first volume of Lord of the Rings one day after school, read it on the bus home, stayed up all night reading it, read it on the bus back to school, and finished it starving for the next one. This post features similar stories. They’re always fun, aren’t they? And we probably all have one. […]
[…] on my writing desk, I hadn’t read it in years. Then on September 11th, I read a post by Keith Cronin, author of Me Again, and was transported to the beginning of my journey as a writer. I immediately […]
My 5th grade teacher, Miss Kruly, used to have us sit on the floor at the front of the room while she read Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn to us every day after lunch. I still love those two books. That experience and my parents’ influence and love for fiction are probably the main reasons why I became a writer.