When asked about my favorite books, I'll sometimes draw a complete bank. It might sound strange to some, but questions like that feel like unfairly timed pop quizzes to me. Perhaps they are because, in my head, I take a convoluted route to answering questions that involve picking favorites.
When asked about my personal favorites, I tend to seriously factor in the "personal" aspect of that category. I pretty much trace my own life journey with books. In the way that some memories are like floodgates, unwilling to be called forth at all unless they come in a torrent, these titles sometimes slip my mind. But when I begin to remember, they come back in startling detail.
I guess it all started with "The Book Thief" (2006), a modern classic of young adult fiction more affecting than most adult-oriented novels I have read. I recall 12 or maybe 13-year-old Kevin vacationing with my family to the azure-skied summery coast of Rhode Island and being more excited about finishing the second half of this dark tale than the sun or the waves or any of that jazz. I was that kind of kid sometimes. The novel explores disturbing subject matter, yet manages to find redemption and beautiful reasons to exist within the darkness. It does all this while presenting an engaging story that manages to be heartbreakingly real and entertainingly surreal, at times tragic and at times comic and intellectually interesting yet accessible to pre-teen readers.
Many books had an impact on me throughout my teenage years, but what really stirs my memory is a trifecta of books I encountered during my senior year of high school. "Freedom" (2010), a critically acclaimed dramatic epic by Jonathan Franzen that attempted to simultaneously define our modern era and harken back to the way novels used to influence society, came first. Next was "White Teeth" (2000) by Zadie Smith, a laughably farcical yet socially realistic demographic mapping of modern-day London. Capping off my senior spring was "The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao" (2007) by Junot Diaz, in which the Dominican immigrant experi- ence in America is given a narrative using a hapless, eternal virgin with a love for science fiction. Each of these stories electrified me in a different way, showing me parts of myself and the world that I never knew existed. Together, they provided me with a sweeping view of my nation and my world, and gave me reason to question the comfortable position I inhabit in both. As a late-blooming, emotionally confused adolescent, these books told me that it was okay to undergo dark and uncertain periods in life, and that the world is full of human stories of weird heartache, inconsolable tragedy, unexpected bliss and other states of emo- tion that aren't often in the public view.
So, what do our favorite books say about us? That is a question that I knew I would try and fail to answer in this column - rather, I just rambled on about my favorite novels for 600 words. I think one reason I could never be any kind of literary critic is that I wouldn't even be able to pretend that my taste is of a high scholarly order that is isolated from my personal experience and identity. Instead, my favorite book follows suit with my favorite bands, films and television shows. I love them not only for what they are, but for the timely manner in which they stumbled into my life.
The only conclusion I can think of here is that the thought and strategy someone puts into choosing his or her favorite book is just as important as the book itself.
Book of the week: Your favorite book! Yes, that one. That one you are so very embarrassed about.
Kevin Criscione is a sophomore majoring in English. He can be reached at Kevin. Criscione@tufts.edu.
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