The Book That Changed My Life
One of my favorite NPR shows is The Connection. This week they did a series of shows on "The Book that Changed My Life" and had a bunch of contemporary authors on talking about what books inspired them the most. (You can listen to the shows themselves at http://www.theconnection.org in the Archive section.) It made me think about all the books I've read over the years, and it didn't take me very long at all to come up with one that did change my life in a concrete, tangible way. It didn't make NPR's list, but I'm hardly surprised by that.
There have been many works that have affected me profoundly, among them: Equus by Peter Schaeffer, Going to Meet the Man (and pretty much anything else) by James Baldwin, The Way of Aikido by George Leonard, I, Claudius by Robert Graves, and the works of Tolkien. But the one book that messed me up inside and changed how I think and affected me more than anything I've ever read before or since was Bluebeard, by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. While it was rewiring my brain it also made me laugh my ass off, which is no mean feat.
For those not familiar with the fairytale of the same name, let me sum it up for you: There's an old, rich guy who likes to marry young girls, who then mysteriously disappear soon afterwards. His name is Bluebeard. He picks a new PYT to be his wife (she's like wife #9 or something) and tells her she can have anything she wants and the run of the house except she can't go in this one door. Natch, being a woman, she waits until he's not around and goes inside and finds the corpses of all his previous wives. Bluebeard comes home and finds out she went in there and adds one more corpse to the room. Moral of the story: curiosity killed the cat, so do what your husbands say, ladies. (Actually, I'm not really sure what the moral is, but that seems to be chauvanistically accurate.)
Anyway, aside from a slight similarity in theme only, Vonnegut's Bluebeard is nothing like the fairytale, meaning the surprise at the end isn't nearly as gruesome as a corpse-filled room. Vonnegut's Bluebeard, Rabo Karabekian, is an old man looking back on his life and not having very much to show for it; he has always taken the easy way out of almost everything and finds himself alone at the end of his years, scorned by his wife and family, but rich as all hell, mainly from the product of others' work. He is an artist of the Abstract Expressionism type, and although Vonnegut puts a disclaimer in the beginning saying Bluebeard not a "responsible history" of that school, his opinion of it (one I share, incidentally) comes through loud and clear in the text. Abstract Expressionists are the painters who, like Pollack, splatter paint on a canvas in the name of art, or worse, cover a canvas in one color and consider their painting finished. I'm sure there are some folks out there who enjoy this sort of thing. But if that's all it takes to be a successful artist, hell, even I can do that. (Please, O readers of artistic genius, don't deluge me with reasons why Abstract Expressionism is great and I'm an ignorant Philistine. As to the first, I don't agree, and as to the second, I admit it, ok?)
Karabekian meets a woman who basically invites herself to live with him. He finds her infuriating because she's extremely nosy and asks personal questions that make him examine his eventful and often hilarious life. She, like Bluebeard's wife, has the entire run of the place (because she gives herself that privilege) except for one "door" she can't go into: the potato barn behind the house. Despite her constant efforts to gain entrance and/or find out what is inside, Karabekian manages to keep his secret until the climax of the book. What's in the potato barn? Something "bigger than a breadbox and smaller than the planet Jupiter." To give it away would obviously ruin the surprise and enjoyment one would get out of reading the book, so I won't do it here.
The book begs the question of the reader: "Are YOU doing all you can with your life? Are you truly living up to your potential, or are you wasting what time you have?" The book isn't heavy-handed about it, meaning you'll have to arrive at these questions yourself, I suppose, but the symbolism is fairly transparent, particularly with the revelation at the end of the book. At the time I first read Bluebeard, I certainly wasn't living up to my potential. I'm still not, but at least I can truly say I'm on the way now. I'm not an old man like Rabo Karabekian, but I don't want to be at the end of my life, however long or short it may be, and have nothing to show for it.
I've passed the book on to friends and family and can't say enough of how much I love it and what it has done for me. Of course, not everyone sees it that way; Bluebeard is not popularly considered one of Vonnegut's best books, especially when held up to classics like Slaughterhouse Five and Cat's Cradle. Despite that, Bluebeard is far and away my favorite book by Kurt Vonnegut, and I've read them all. It's also among my favorite books of all time, which proves reading is a very subjective experience. What dazzles me may do nothing for you, but then again, it might.
This is the book that changed MY life. Do you have one that's changed yours?
There have been many works that have affected me profoundly, among them: Equus by Peter Schaeffer, Going to Meet the Man (and pretty much anything else) by James Baldwin, The Way of Aikido by George Leonard, I, Claudius by Robert Graves, and the works of Tolkien. But the one book that messed me up inside and changed how I think and affected me more than anything I've ever read before or since was Bluebeard, by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. While it was rewiring my brain it also made me laugh my ass off, which is no mean feat.
For those not familiar with the fairytale of the same name, let me sum it up for you: There's an old, rich guy who likes to marry young girls, who then mysteriously disappear soon afterwards. His name is Bluebeard. He picks a new PYT to be his wife (she's like wife #9 or something) and tells her she can have anything she wants and the run of the house except she can't go in this one door. Natch, being a woman, she waits until he's not around and goes inside and finds the corpses of all his previous wives. Bluebeard comes home and finds out she went in there and adds one more corpse to the room. Moral of the story: curiosity killed the cat, so do what your husbands say, ladies. (Actually, I'm not really sure what the moral is, but that seems to be chauvanistically accurate.)
Anyway, aside from a slight similarity in theme only, Vonnegut's Bluebeard is nothing like the fairytale, meaning the surprise at the end isn't nearly as gruesome as a corpse-filled room. Vonnegut's Bluebeard, Rabo Karabekian, is an old man looking back on his life and not having very much to show for it; he has always taken the easy way out of almost everything and finds himself alone at the end of his years, scorned by his wife and family, but rich as all hell, mainly from the product of others' work. He is an artist of the Abstract Expressionism type, and although Vonnegut puts a disclaimer in the beginning saying Bluebeard not a "responsible history" of that school, his opinion of it (one I share, incidentally) comes through loud and clear in the text. Abstract Expressionists are the painters who, like Pollack, splatter paint on a canvas in the name of art, or worse, cover a canvas in one color and consider their painting finished. I'm sure there are some folks out there who enjoy this sort of thing. But if that's all it takes to be a successful artist, hell, even I can do that. (Please, O readers of artistic genius, don't deluge me with reasons why Abstract Expressionism is great and I'm an ignorant Philistine. As to the first, I don't agree, and as to the second, I admit it, ok?)
Karabekian meets a woman who basically invites herself to live with him. He finds her infuriating because she's extremely nosy and asks personal questions that make him examine his eventful and often hilarious life. She, like Bluebeard's wife, has the entire run of the place (because she gives herself that privilege) except for one "door" she can't go into: the potato barn behind the house. Despite her constant efforts to gain entrance and/or find out what is inside, Karabekian manages to keep his secret until the climax of the book. What's in the potato barn? Something "bigger than a breadbox and smaller than the planet Jupiter." To give it away would obviously ruin the surprise and enjoyment one would get out of reading the book, so I won't do it here.
The book begs the question of the reader: "Are YOU doing all you can with your life? Are you truly living up to your potential, or are you wasting what time you have?" The book isn't heavy-handed about it, meaning you'll have to arrive at these questions yourself, I suppose, but the symbolism is fairly transparent, particularly with the revelation at the end of the book. At the time I first read Bluebeard, I certainly wasn't living up to my potential. I'm still not, but at least I can truly say I'm on the way now. I'm not an old man like Rabo Karabekian, but I don't want to be at the end of my life, however long or short it may be, and have nothing to show for it.
I've passed the book on to friends and family and can't say enough of how much I love it and what it has done for me. Of course, not everyone sees it that way; Bluebeard is not popularly considered one of Vonnegut's best books, especially when held up to classics like Slaughterhouse Five and Cat's Cradle. Despite that, Bluebeard is far and away my favorite book by Kurt Vonnegut, and I've read them all. It's also among my favorite books of all time, which proves reading is a very subjective experience. What dazzles me may do nothing for you, but then again, it might.
This is the book that changed MY life. Do you have one that's changed yours?
posted by The Angry Piper at 9:30 AM
7 Comments:
There are a few, the Tolkein series, Neuromancer by Gibson, The Dune Saga, Satanic Verses, by Rushdie
I'm kinda looking for more than "it was a bitchin' read, man." What about the books specifically changed the way you think or how you live your life?
Well then, Holy Blood Holy Grail, made me rethink much of what I new about Relgion, and Catholocism, several of Phil Melanson's assination books, made me rethink our government, I forget the author, but a book called "Cubism" really changed alot of what I did art wise.
I read Holy Blood, Holy Grail a few years back and it blew my mind. Creepy stuff. I can't say it affected my views on religion much as I had pretty much made my mind up by then, but it certainly raises some interesting questions.
Brave new World is by far my all time favoirite read. It truly made me think about the way we are creating the "perfect" child and family etc.. Anything by Robert Fulguhm is great and personally showed me how we are often searching our whole life for things right in front of our face.
Hey Papa Pugilist Pipes. I read all of your posts. Generally, I don't respond because I whole heartedly agree, as is the case with this post.
So, instead of knocking holes in your shite (my normal M.O.) I will make the two suggestions I always make, and add a third. All of which, I believe you have read, but maybe your loyal readers have not.
1. The Dune series, by FRANK HERBERT. Not the other books by his silly son who just riffs the old books. It made me view religion, time, economics, ecology and politics in a different light. No mean feat for a work of fiction.
2. The Illuminatus Trilogy, by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson. Disclaimer: I believe very little of what's in it is actually true, but it set my mind on a course to discover what WAS true.
3. The Valis books by Phil Dick. Want to watch the cat's eyes spin? I think I actually crapped out my mouth in shock at one point. Can't remember the exact titles and it's been a long and confusing six years since I read them. I know, they changed my life and I don't even have the common decency to memorize the titles. That's me.
Non fiction: Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time. Nobody take this the wrong way, but if that guy was not completely paralyzed and in a wheel chair with a synthetic voice, we'd all be calling him Supreme ruler. He sees reality with more clarity than most of us see our breakfast.
I read the first two, and although I found them most entertaining, I can't say they changed my life. They were really good reads though, especially the Dune series, and the Illuminatus Trilogy was a scream (often "a scream of consciousness" if you'll pardon the pun. Ah ha. Ha. Hmm.)
I have not, to my eternal shame, read enough Philip K Dick. For great speculative fiction (a future post) I recommend Robert Silverberg, whose "Shadrach in the Furnace" I am finishing up today.
And you're not the first person to recommend Hawking to me. My friend Owen the Mighty has done so in the past, but I ignored him as is my wont, in favor of reading more good (and some bad)fiction. Secretly, though, it's on my list, but don't tell Owen.
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