Books That Made Me Think
Recently I read two books that I can’t stop thinking about. To me, that’s the mark of a great book. Both these books were engrossing and well-written, but they also made me think, not just about the story, but about my own perspectives and limitations. The first one is The Help by Kathryn Stockett. It was published in 2009 so I’m a little late to this party. The quote on the cover reads: ‘This could be one of the most important pieces of fiction since To Kill a Mockingbird… If you only read one book… let this be it.”-NPR.org Well! That sounds pretty important. I knew from the back cover that it’s about racial tension in the 1960s in Jackson, Mississippi. I wasn’t sure it was going to tell me anything I didn’t already know, but my sister assured me that it’s a compelling story, so I decided to read it. Well, this book was so good. It’s not a thriller, but it’s still a page-turner. There were many times where I just couldn’t put it down because I wanted to know what happened next. Although it’s fiction, the author grew up in Jackson and talks about her own experience in an epilogue entitled “Too Little, Too Late.” The thing that shocked me about this book was that these events took place in the 1960s. I was BORN in the 1960s. Not that I remember much (I was born in 1966) but I definitely remember the 1970s, and I’m sure things weren’t a whole lot better then. But I grew up in a wealthy, mostly white suburb of Chicago where the people were educated and progressive- and, to my eyes, racism didn’t exist. There were a few Black kids, but to single them out because of their skin color would have been just as ridiculous as discriminating against a kid with curly hair. You just didn’t do it- it would never have occurred to us. In retrospect, I think the adults around us were trying to raise us to be as “color blind” as possible. Maybe that was their solution to the racism in our country. I’m not sure it was the best approach (maybe a little more education on the subject would have been helpful) but I’m grateful for the attempt. Never before have I truly appreciated the privileges I enjoyed growing up. I remember writing an essay in seventh grade- I can’t remember the subject but somehow racism was involved. I wrote something like “In those days, people were racist.” On the day he passed our essays back, the teacher stood in front of the class, totally exasperated, and said “I’ve got news for you kids- racism STILL EXISTS.” It was the first time anyone ever told me that. Obviously, I’ve broadened my horizons since then, but the fact that I just read The Help and put two and two together- this was going on at the same time I was growing up in Highland Park, Illinois, completely oblivious- shows me how little I really understand racism in this country. The second book is The Prettiest Star by Carter Sickels. In 1986, 24-year-old Brian returns from New York City to the small town in Ohio where he grew up- infected with AIDS. Not only is he grappling with the death of his lover and many friends and his own mortality, but the ignorance of the people in his town who shun him (including most of his own relatives.) It’s a sad, sad, sad book. Once again it’s fiction, but in the acknowledgments the author cites books, articles and documentaries he used in his research to write the story. And once again… I had to confront my own self-absorption and lack of empathy on this subject. I was in high school and college in the 1980s. Of course I knew about AIDS. I wasn’t living in a small town full of ignorant people! I knew that people (mostly gay men) got it from unprotected sex, or sharing needles, or blood transfusions. I knew that it was wrong and mean to say that AIDS was God’s punishment of the gay community. I didn’t personally know any gay people (or I should say, no one I knew at the time was openly gay) but I knew AIDS was a terrible thing. BUT! Reading this book made me think, really think for the first time, about how tragic it was, all these young men dying like that. Back when AIDS was a horrible health crisis (not that it’s not still horrible- but it’s more manageable now) I would have said it was sad- but did I ever, for one single minute, really think about what these people were going through and actually FEEL SAD for them? No. It’s fascinating to me that just now, at the age of 56, I’m starting to appreciate how enormously diverse our country is. If you grow up on Chicago’s North Shore, you can’t imagine what it’s like to be a gay man in New York City, or a Black person in the deep south, or to grow up in a small rural town in Ohio. Maybe that’s why our country is so divided- of course we’re not all going to see things the same way. I’m not saying I have any solutions here. But these books are at least helping me to see the problem more clearly. Thanks once again to Kim and Zenaida’s Tuesday Topic linkup! Have you read any great books lately?