Wendell Berry does this work of measuring various influences
on his life in an essay entitled ‘The Long-legged house,’ in Recollected Essays. He describes a place
he calls the Camp, a cabin built along the Kentucky River by an ancestor which
he then repaired and rebuilt and used for himself during his life. He writes about what
the Camp has meant to him in the context of that place – the river, the woods,
the animals. He is particular about many things.
Wendell Berry has attempted to recollect the material of his
life in this, and in other writing he has done, and to make some sense out of
it. And having done it very well and with thoughts that then resonated in my
own mind, Mr. Berry goes to the top of my list of writers. And the links of the
chain also work their way back as Mr. Berry also writes of reading Thoreau and
other writers that have been important to him, as well.
I have a good collection of books that I have read by Mr.
Berry over the years. It would take more time
than I intend to take here to try to understand how his words have
shaped my life. But I have no doubt that they have considerably done so, as I find
that I repeatedly go back to my bookshelf and read Mr. Berry’s words again,
often finding them still potent.
The other book that has had a profound influence in shaping
the course of my life is the Bible. I am no fundamentalist in how I interpret
the Bible today, but many of its words form a foundation for who I have become.
The Bible is a collection of writings, of course, and I have read or heard
parts of it over and over again – most often during the time in my life when I
was most impressionable.
Lines still come to mind years later: “Thy word have I hid in my heart that I might
not sin against Thee.” I think that it is in words written down - the ideas that
are distilled in ways that then lodge within our memory - that we are formed.
We are not merely the dust of the earth.
I am a picker and a chooser with the Bible, to be sure. And over the
years, I have returned to the scriptures to reinforce some words and not
others. But many words remain a part of me whether or I want them to or not.
And it’s not just some of the revealed truths that I still acknowledge, but
characters and stories that have instructed me. In the beginning was the Word,
says John.
With my first two choices, I think it becomes clear that my
original question is not one I will actually answer very completely. I never
assumed that I would be able to. Maybe I will manage to illuminate the question.
If we give ourselves time, I do believe that we can learn some things from our words
and experience. And if we can be somewhat thoughtful and articulate, we can
learn from each other.
Books and writing – both in general and in particular- have
mattered much to me in my living. I cannot easily tease out precisely where a
mark has been made, but I have to recognize that my mind is a kind of village
of the words of other writers.
But to dash off a somewhat completed list: there is a
science fiction novel called ‘The Dispossessed’ by Ursula Leguin that I first
read while sitting in a library for several days in Frisco, Colorado as a
friend and I waited for our ride after backpacking in the Gore Range. I later
bought myself a copy and underlined passages throughout. The descriptions of
alternate ways of structuring society - of ways people might choose to organize
themselves to live freely and yet still share with each other - became solid concepts
to hold onto in my mind. I reread the book again recently and was pleased to
discover that I remembered the characters and I still appreciated the dilemmas
they faced and saw again the vision that still stirred my imagination.
A lot of science fiction that I mostly read in my youth –
particularly the books that focused on human culture in some way – surely had
some influence on me. I remember Isaac Asimov, and especially his sweeping
Foundation trilogy. The details in the first book in that series had less punch
upon partial rereading, but the overall sweep still interested me. They were
perhaps the right books at the right time. I have mostly forgotten many other
books in this genre – although I might still recognize a struck chord if I read
them again.
C. S. Lewis straddles some of the areas that mattered to me
as I was growing up. His science fiction trilogy and his Narnia stories began
to open up a tight and mostly closed system of beliefs about God. There was
wonder in his conception of faith, although who knows how he would feel about
how far from fundamental Christianity his initial push carried me.
I realize that I will say little about many, many books and
authors that changed my life in some significant way - if only I could find a way
to identify and measure them. Edward Abbey, Ivan Illich, Annie Dillard. A book
called ‘The Shantung Compound.’ A good translation of ‘The Brother’s
Karamozov.’ I have loved John McPhee’s descriptions of the world. And books
explaining quantum physics and evolution and other aspects of the natural
world. And books that attempt to explain the human mind and why we think and do
the things we do.
This quick recollection of books that matter to me is about these
mentioned books and also ones that I’ve forgotten. And what about a number of
bad books - books that I never bothered to finish? Even some of those should
receive honorable mention in a role call of books and
writers that have were important to me – some slightly useful piece of writing,
long forgotten, that I happened upon in books I assumed were only a waste of my
time.
Here’s a word from William Faulkner: ‘...how words go straight up in a thin line, quick and
harmless, and how terribly doing goes along the earth,
clinging to it...’ And yet words become doing – or ‘flesh’ as it was written by
King James - when they shape human beings. As it turns out, much of the
shaping of what I think has been done by writers. I am, of course, most
grateful for the good ones that I have read.
2 comments:
I think it's a worthy task to try to remember the books and authors who have helped you become who you are. I agree that words form us. My memory is so poor I may have to scan book lists to remember what I've read. Thanks for writing.
And I didn't mention by title, 'Follow My Leader,' a kid's book I can remember in great detail about a boy who loses his eyesight and finds himself. The book is still on my shelf, but the writing was so bad I couldn't bring get more than a few pages into it when I tried to read the book again recently. Yet I wonder how much this story of struggle against a disability mattered to me in my life.
That I'm asking the question some forty or fifty years later says something. And Henry Huggins, a Beverly Cleary character, must surely count. And a little Scholastics Book about animal tracks.
What our conscious mind fails to recall, our much larger unconscious being knows. Among many other influences, of course, we become what we read.
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