BBC's Book List
The BBC believes most people will have only read 6 of the 100 books here. Looks like my interest in in Victorian lit has paid off for something, but I've still only read 55/100. Here's how I stack up:
1) Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen (X)
2) The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien (X)
3) Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte (X)
4) Harry Potter series - JK Rowling (X)
5) To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6) The Bible (X)
7) Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte (X)
8) Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell (X)
9) His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10) Great Expectations - Charles Dickens (X)
11) Little Women - Louisa M Alcott (X)
12) Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy (X)
13) Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14) Complete Works of Shakespeare [not the complete works, but quite a few]
15) Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier (X)
16) The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien (X)
17) Birdsong - Sebastian Faulk
18) Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger (X)
19) The Time Traveler’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger (X)
20) Middlemarch - George Eliot (X) currently reading!
21) Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22) The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald (X)
23) Bleak House - Charles Dickens (X)
24) War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25) The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26) Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27) Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky (X)
28) Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck (X)
29) Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll (X)
30) The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31) Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32) David Copperfield - Charles Dickens (X)
33) Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis (X)
34) Emma - Jane Austen (X)
35) Persuasion - Jane Austen (X)
36) The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis (X)
37) The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38) Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39) Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40) Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne (X)
41) Animal Farm - George Orwell (X)
42) The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown (X)
43) One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez (X)
44) A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45) The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46) Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery (X)
47) Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy (X)
48) The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood (X)
49) Lord of the Flies - William Golding (X)
50) Atonement - Ian McEwan (X)
51) Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52) Dune - Frank Herbert
53) Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54) Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen (X)
55) A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56) The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57) A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58) Brave New World - Aldous Huxley (X)
59) The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night - Mark Haddon
60) Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez (X)
61) Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck (X)
62) Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov (X)
63) The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64) The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold (X)
65) Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66) On The Road - Jack Kerouac (X)
67) Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy (X)
68) Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding
69) Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70) Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71) Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72) Dracula - Bram Stoker (X)
73) The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett (X)
74) Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75) Ulysses - James Joyce
76) The Inferno - Dante (X)
77) Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78) Germinal - Emile Zola
79) Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray (X)
80) Possession - AS Byatt
81) A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens (X)
82) Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83) The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84) The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro (X)
85) Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert (X)
86) A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87) Charlotte’s Web - EB White (X)
88) The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89) Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90) The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91) Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad (X)
92) The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery (X)
93) The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94) Watership Down - Richard Adams
95) A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole (X)
96) A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97) The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98) Hamlet - William Shakespeare (X)
99) Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100) Les Miserables - Victor Hugo
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Kid Fears
Been thinking a lot lately about whether or not I have the chops to be a good parent. I see all kinds of sentimental cheese about parenthood everywhere, especially regarding motherhood, and it makes me cringe. This feel-good bullcrap seems designed to make people feel that parenting is some kind of holy calling, wherein only the elite need apply. I wonder if it's like how supermodels make average women feel bad about themselves? I may be onto something.
I just finished reading this book recently and it didn't make me feel better. It seems that no one can really communicate why having kids is so great and worthwhile, largely because the reason varies from person to person, and probably partially because it is, in the end, somewhat underwhelming, after all. In every case, it seemed like the decision to have or not have a child was borne of the writer's ability or inability to rationalize and/or reconcile their own childhood experiences. The most disturbing essays were those written by people who professed to not want children, ever. The tone of these essays was largely juvenile in the sense that I felt they were trying to prove that they were different from the mainstream so hard that they kind of lost sight of rational argument. Part of me understands--no one is more persecuted in our society than people who either don't have kids or make the mistake of saying they don't want them in polite company; I've been there. But most of these essays were either written by young whip-smart (ass) twenty-somethings living the dream in NYC or by condescending, self-righteous women already long past their ripeness. One essay I found especially disturbing was a young woman who embarked on a crusade to get her tubes tied in her early 30s simply because society wouldn't let her. The ladies doth protest too much, methinks.
The essays written by people 'on the fence' and people who were on the fence but had them anyway, were the most enlightening for me. These are people with a sense of self, with an identity, who managed to have a kid and not allow their identity to become erased completely. These are people who didn't think it necessary to stop listening to rock music in favor of the Wiggles; people who aren't ashamed to admit that they need to have a glass of wine to help ease the transition between work and Kidworld. These essayists had no particular overarching reason for having a kid, other than just taking the leap and doing it, which is how I feel about it now, after many years of being on the 'no' side of the fence.
My feelings can best be summed up by these two quotes, which are available in the online review:
Basically, having kids boils down to entering into some mystical rite that is purported to be amazing but at the end of the day, looks like a lot of thankless work.
It's not that I'm afraid of losing myself and having to put this other person first, I've gotten past that initial fear. What I'm more afraid of now is that I won't find having a kid of my own as miraculous and life-affirming as most people claim it is. I worry that I am disturbed, somehow, that I will fuck things up and end up being like my mother, in the end. I don't know that I have the energy to be the Master Mother that I think I should be. I see other people's kids and I see the flaws in their parenting--whether it's neglect that leads to an angry and frustrated child, or superlative ego that leads to fostering an unrealistic sense of the child's abilities. And then there's the whole vegetables problem. I don't want a kid that only eats chicken nuggets and mac and cheese! I also don't want a kid that is so engrossed in boring shit like playing Barbies! I want my kid to be different, not just another run-of-the-mill product of consumer culture. The kid shouldn't determine what gets served at the dinner table, and yet so many parents these days seem to tailor everything to the kid, the lowest common denominator, letting them determine everything and feebly watching as their kids walk all over parental authority. I don't want a family if it's going to be this way! I want to play the music that my husband and I like in the car, and eat make nutritious dinners that everyone can enjoy. We are the adults, we existed first, the child is an addition to our lives, but we maintain control.
My mom was a single mother but she never played stupid kid music in the car with me--I grew up listening to the radio so I have memories associated with many late '70s and early '80s songs, and that early exposure to music is a big part of who I am still. We had family dinners and I wasn't given a second choice on what to eat, and although I was a picky child, I managed to get by, even if I picked at my food a lot. I was fed Swanson TV dinners, Spaghetti-O's, and McDonald's on occasion as a kid, don't get me wrong--but I don't eat those things today. I had a couple of Barbies at maximum my entire childhood, and I got a Barbie poolhouse and townhouse one Christmas...but a couple of years later those toys lived in our garage, b/c I played outdoors a lot and liked reading and writing in my diary and making secret hideouts, etc. I played by myself most of the time and had great imagination--not like some kids I've met, who seem to need nearly CONSTANT attention to the point of annoyance.
I think these days there is even more pressure to be aware of everything that could be potentially harmful to our children, and it's making parents into stressed-out worry-warts. If you don't use cloth diapers, and puree your own baby food, you're not doing the best you can to be an eco-conscious, good parent. I was reading the diary of my husband's late grandmother recently, and she noted that her sons were raised on a milk and brown sugar formula. Milk and brown sugar. They didn't breastfeed back then, because they thought it was gauche. Some people still today don't breastfeed because it just simply isn't done in their social echelon...and so they use processed formula filled with all kinds of crap. I was fed on some sort of formula, but I survived.
What is my point? I guess that there is so much to be aware of now that parenting could really be a full-time job. And yet, we still farm our kids out to daycare centers, because we are a culture of work-a-holics. So, in addition to holding down my current stressful, taxing job, I have to fight the system by making my own baby food, washing cloth diapers, still find time to exercise and be attractive, and, oh yeah, sleep. I know my husband will help me all that he can, but let's face it--women always end up doing more, period. We have to do it all, and try to look good while doing it all. And after all of that, what if having a kid, for me, is underwhelming? What if I end up feeling like a slave to baby, giving up my free time to this little parasite that will only leave me as soon as it's old enough?
These are the things I worry about. Parenthood is certainly a perplexing state, and I am still mystified as to why people continue to do it, but they do. I suppose I will never know what is so compelling about it until I just do it myself...so at the same time that I worry myself to death over questions like these, the other part of me just shrugs and says 'meh, it will be fine.'
Who knows, but the answer to the conundrum may have been in that 'meh' all along.
I just finished reading this book recently and it didn't make me feel better. It seems that no one can really communicate why having kids is so great and worthwhile, largely because the reason varies from person to person, and probably partially because it is, in the end, somewhat underwhelming, after all. In every case, it seemed like the decision to have or not have a child was borne of the writer's ability or inability to rationalize and/or reconcile their own childhood experiences. The most disturbing essays were those written by people who professed to not want children, ever. The tone of these essays was largely juvenile in the sense that I felt they were trying to prove that they were different from the mainstream so hard that they kind of lost sight of rational argument. Part of me understands--no one is more persecuted in our society than people who either don't have kids or make the mistake of saying they don't want them in polite company; I've been there. But most of these essays were either written by young whip-smart (ass) twenty-somethings living the dream in NYC or by condescending, self-righteous women already long past their ripeness. One essay I found especially disturbing was a young woman who embarked on a crusade to get her tubes tied in her early 30s simply because society wouldn't let her. The ladies doth protest too much, methinks.
The essays written by people 'on the fence' and people who were on the fence but had them anyway, were the most enlightening for me. These are people with a sense of self, with an identity, who managed to have a kid and not allow their identity to become erased completely. These are people who didn't think it necessary to stop listening to rock music in favor of the Wiggles; people who aren't ashamed to admit that they need to have a glass of wine to help ease the transition between work and Kidworld. These essayists had no particular overarching reason for having a kid, other than just taking the leap and doing it, which is how I feel about it now, after many years of being on the 'no' side of the fence.
My feelings can best be summed up by these two quotes, which are available in the online review:
Yes: "I've been granted access to a new plane of existence, one I could not have imagined, and would not now live without."—Peter Nichols
No: "I can sort of see that it might be nice to have children, but there are a thousand things I'd rather spend my time doing than raise them."—Michelle Goldberg
It's not that I'm afraid of losing myself and having to put this other person first, I've gotten past that initial fear. What I'm more afraid of now is that I won't find having a kid of my own as miraculous and life-affirming as most people claim it is. I worry that I am disturbed, somehow, that I will fuck things up and end up being like my mother, in the end. I don't know that I have the energy to be the Master Mother that I think I should be. I see other people's kids and I see the flaws in their parenting--whether it's neglect that leads to an angry and frustrated child, or superlative ego that leads to fostering an unrealistic sense of the child's abilities. And then there's the whole vegetables problem. I don't want a kid that only eats chicken nuggets and mac and cheese! I also don't want a kid that is so engrossed in boring shit like playing Barbies! I want my kid to be different, not just another run-of-the-mill product of consumer culture. The kid shouldn't determine what gets served at the dinner table, and yet so many parents these days seem to tailor everything to the kid, the lowest common denominator, letting them determine everything and feebly watching as their kids walk all over parental authority. I don't want a family if it's going to be this way! I want to play the music that my husband and I like in the car, and eat make nutritious dinners that everyone can enjoy. We are the adults, we existed first, the child is an addition to our lives, but we maintain control.
My mom was a single mother but she never played stupid kid music in the car with me--I grew up listening to the radio so I have memories associated with many late '70s and early '80s songs, and that early exposure to music is a big part of who I am still. We had family dinners and I wasn't given a second choice on what to eat, and although I was a picky child, I managed to get by, even if I picked at my food a lot. I was fed Swanson TV dinners, Spaghetti-O's, and McDonald's on occasion as a kid, don't get me wrong--but I don't eat those things today. I had a couple of Barbies at maximum my entire childhood, and I got a Barbie poolhouse and townhouse one Christmas...but a couple of years later those toys lived in our garage, b/c I played outdoors a lot and liked reading and writing in my diary and making secret hideouts, etc. I played by myself most of the time and had great imagination--not like some kids I've met, who seem to need nearly CONSTANT attention to the point of annoyance.
I think these days there is even more pressure to be aware of everything that could be potentially harmful to our children, and it's making parents into stressed-out worry-warts. If you don't use cloth diapers, and puree your own baby food, you're not doing the best you can to be an eco-conscious, good parent. I was reading the diary of my husband's late grandmother recently, and she noted that her sons were raised on a milk and brown sugar formula. Milk and brown sugar. They didn't breastfeed back then, because they thought it was gauche. Some people still today don't breastfeed because it just simply isn't done in their social echelon...and so they use processed formula filled with all kinds of crap. I was fed on some sort of formula, but I survived.
What is my point? I guess that there is so much to be aware of now that parenting could really be a full-time job. And yet, we still farm our kids out to daycare centers, because we are a culture of work-a-holics. So, in addition to holding down my current stressful, taxing job, I have to fight the system by making my own baby food, washing cloth diapers, still find time to exercise and be attractive, and, oh yeah, sleep. I know my husband will help me all that he can, but let's face it--women always end up doing more, period. We have to do it all, and try to look good while doing it all. And after all of that, what if having a kid, for me, is underwhelming? What if I end up feeling like a slave to baby, giving up my free time to this little parasite that will only leave me as soon as it's old enough?
These are the things I worry about. Parenthood is certainly a perplexing state, and I am still mystified as to why people continue to do it, but they do. I suppose I will never know what is so compelling about it until I just do it myself...so at the same time that I worry myself to death over questions like these, the other part of me just shrugs and says 'meh, it will be fine.'
Who knows, but the answer to the conundrum may have been in that 'meh' all along.
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