"I am the product of endless books.” If I were soulless and had the
morals of a scavenging sewer rat, I would take credit for that
sentence. Since I am slightly better than that—and by slightly I mean
merely one peg above it—I will appreciate it for emanating the spirit
with which I have read books my whole life. Earlier today, while in
the midst of gloriously wasting time rather than doing my Abnormal
Psychology reading, I stumbled upon an essay about books on BuzzFeed
that was enough to convince me of the kinship I share with the author.
“I am not influenced by books. Instead, I am shaped by them. I am made
of flesh and bone and blood. I am also made of books.” Roxanne Gay
might have just been penning her regular contribution to BuzzFeed in
the form of books that shaped her, but instead she left me inspired
for this week’s column; while also carving in my mind forever the
notion of being made of books just as much as we are flesh, bone and
blood.
That had me thinking though, books and stories that inspire us and
continue to do so feature in our minds, lives and conversations quite
often. But, have you not also stumbled upon lines, mere sentences that
continue to stay with you even when the story fades away? I do not
mean the unapologetically overused quotes that you see scrawled upon
bland scenes on posters, but the line that could perhaps be the saving
grace of an otherwise abysmal story or the one that captures the
entirety of it. Even more so, it could be the one single sentence,
innocuous to others perhaps, that speaks to you.
“Intuition is really a sudden immersion of the soul into the universal
current of life.” The first time I read “The Alchemist” by Paulo
Coelho, I did so because it was the first book assigned for my 11th
grade English class. I started reading it a week before class began
because I was a dork that loved reading. I continued reading it
because I was a dork that fell in love with all the grand things
Coelho wrote and spoke about as if they were the most natural things
in the world. Traveling halfway around the world to chase the
knowledge of what your dreams are and believing that your soul needs
to be in perfect harmony with the universe are laughable concepts.
Really, they are. And I will be the cynic to snort at you when you
give a grand speech about them, because let’s face it there’s always a
grand speech with music welling up at the end—except when I read
Coelho talking about them because his words make you believe. His
words make me want to believe despite 21 years worth of accumulated
cynicism and a killer sense of humor. “And, when you want something,
all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it,” is the
sentence—amongst many—that has stayed with me since that 11th grade
English class.
I have a page on Goodreads with a smorgasbord of books that I want to
read, trashy books that I have unfortunately (for the innocence that
my mind never really had to be perfectly honest) read and random hit
and miss ones that I like delving into from time to time. There’s a
collection of modern poetry that has been on my to-read list for quite
a while, Signposts Vol. 1 by Todd Garlington, that I was looking at
again since the blurb employs an excellent combination of adjectives,
“An appreciation of irony, however, triumphs over nihilism.” But what
I happened to glance over at this time, that I hadn’t before was the
little bit about the author. What he chose in just two sentences for
the world to know about him was the fact that he knows how to pen
lines that can make you think. “I read to experience words as an art
form. I write to live with myself and others, at times sympathizing
with unwanted truths.”
“We are so limited, you have to use the same word for loving Rosaleen
as you do for loving Coke with peanuts. Isn’t that a shame we don’t
have many more ways to say it?” When it comes to “The Secret Life of
Bees” by Sue Monk Kidd, I believe I might have seen the movie prior to
reading the book. Although having enjoyed both—in different ways of
course—I still nevertheless hold a particular fondness for the book.
It has a charming wisdom to it entwined within a touching story and I
remember it to have many little moments that stood out for me. However
this sentence that in its profound simplicity manages to hold with it
a meaning much deeper and thought provoking, is what stayed with me.
And as much as I love Coke with peanuts—because that is a killer
combination—it is a shame to encapsulate our fervor for snacks with
our emotions for the human beings that make us tingle and feel, in the
same four letter word. We are limited, indeed.
What’s your favorite line ever written? Let Maham know at mhasan4@wisc.edu.
