For my last column of the semester, I generally compile a list of books for whatever vacation is just around the bend. But this time my last column of the semester is my last Orient column. I write it and then I graduate, the end.
When I leave the land of the polar bears, I will leave having acquired a number of things during the last four years: friends, experience, knowledge, etc. And then there is my prodigious tower of books. Scanning my shelves full of hard and soft covered novels, I am confronted by with the one constant that has run through my college career; I always read.
Since I started writing this column, I have frequently been asked, "Do you read a book a week?" The answer, pure and simple, is no. I read every day, and sometimes that takes me through a book or two in a month, sometimes that many in a week. It depends on a lot of factors. What is important to me is the prospect of the pages that meet me when I tumble into bed.
I am a little embarrassed to be waxing so nostalgic, but I figure that those who do get this far in my nerdy literary column will indulge me in my last, brief summary of the books that have bowled me over during the last four years.
"Unaccustomed Earth"
By Jhumpa Lahiri
I raved about this collection of short stories from the Pulitzer-winning author in my final column of last year. By the end of the last story I was so affected I had to hold the book for the first minutes after I finished it. Pathetic, I know. This spring the book was on the syllabus for one of my English classes. I was ecstatic, but also nervous that the story would not have the same effect. I reread it cautiously, slowly, looking for what drew me in the first time. Lahiri is a genius of prose; her stories are consistently subtle, complex and sensual. Reaching the final pages, I was relieved to be engulfed by the same emotions. Again I found myself holding the book, pondering its conclusion.
"The Sun Also Rises"
By Ernest Hemingway
I have always loved Hemingway. But I didn't get to this novel until last spring. The simplicity of his language is mesmerizing. I found myself entranced by the beauty of a single sentence, one that I still spell out to savor its enveloping calm. There is always an edge of tragedy to Hemingway's work, and this heightens the presence of the pleasures.
"Norwegian Wood"
By Haruki Murakami
Since I read this book two-and-a- half years ago I have touted it as my deal breaker novel. Nervous that I had read the complicated, beautifully written teenage love story during a particularly angsty period in my life, I picked it up again this fall. I took my time and it was the only book I had on hand for a week or so. It was just as good as I remembered. Murakami is known for his magical realism but that element is absent in this novel. Lovers of the Beatles and lovers in general cannot help loving this book. And if you can, you and I are over.
It's these three that I can imagine re- and rereading. I came to these particular novels outside of class. I will be graduating with 13 English courses under my belt, however, and I am going to include a brief selection from those classes as well.
I was exposed to Philip Larkin's poetry during my first semester at Bowdoin. The dark, somewhat cantankerous poet often drums through my head. His presence there I can attribute to the superbly awesome Professor Coviello.
Whatever unpretentious bones I have in my body resist my inclusion of the next author. James Joyce. I have to say it, both because you aren't a real scholar 'til you have read "Ulysses" (kidding!) but also because my Joyce seminar with Professor Reizbaum was such an unexpected joy. "The Dead" in his collection "Dubliners" is really what I would recommend.
And with those small notes, I am going to sign off. It's likely that not everyone reads novels now. My hope is that life after Bowdoin will provide all of you with more time to indulge.