Reading Between the Lines

When I glance through my bookshelf, titles stick out to me--not only because they were amazing reads, but because I have such vivid memories of where I was and what I was doing when I was reading it. Of course, every good reader gleans a lesson from a book--I take it a step further and take lessons from the act of reading that book itself. Confusing? I'll explain.

Book read: The Great Gilly Hopkins by Katherine Paterson
Book's lesson: Love will come to you from where you least expect it.
Lesson I rendered: Children in your sixth grade class will look at you weird if you act out this story with a special Star Trek twist for your book report.
I was put into a group to read this, and when we finally finished and had to come up with a presentation for our class, my group sat there listlessly, staring off into space. (One kid, as I remember, was crushing up his Smarties and snorting them.) I sighed, volunteered to put together the project myself that night, and we met the next morning... where I pinned communicators on all their shirts, declared that we were going to act it out like it was an episode of Star Trek, and handed them their scripts.
Every time I re-read this book I think of me in my mustard yellow T-shirt, a bejeweled headband pulled down over my eyes (I was Jordy, get it?), speaking and walking like the blind old black man neighbor in the book. Shameful.

Book read: From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E.L. Konigsburg
Book's lesson: Sometimes you think you need to change everything when you really just need to change one thing.
Lesson I rendered: Buy the senior heartthrob a copy of this in New York, he'll leave it on the bus--and you'll feel ridiculous.
My sophomore year of high school, my drama club all went to New York City for a week. Inside the Metropolitan Museum of Art, people slowly left for more exciting city sights--and I was left behind with Alex, a handsome, charming, talented senior from Lone Peak who starred in our production of Les Miserables because we ran out of handsome, charming, talented seniors. We talked about this book, he mentioned how he hadn't read it in years, so I found a bookstore and bought him a cheap copy.
The next day I shyly approached him on our tour bus, handing him the book as a gift. He gushed gratefully, and I felt amazing--until we unloaded into the hotel and I realized he had not only left it on the bus, but accidentally pushed it onto the floor and walked right past it. I scooped it up and made a vow not to hand it over unless he brought it up to me. He didn't. I still have it.
Humph.

Book read: Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
Book's lesson: Wealth does not bring happiness.
Lesson I rendered: If you offer to read a chapter of this out loud to your sleepover buddy, explaining that you're in the middle of it and read it every night before bed, she will fake sick and call her mom to pick her up.
I had no idea there was such a thing as a Dickens-phobia, but a friend in fourth grade slept over, and I picked the things to keep us entertained. First we watched the 1970s King Kong. Then we made lists of all the sharks we could think of. Hmmm, maybe it wasn't the Dickens that scared her away after all?

Book read: Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden
Book's lesson: Deception in beauty will get you far, but ultimately you should follow your heart.
Lesson rendered: Don't share anything personal with your obnoxious co-worker, or else she will bash on it and leave you shoe-shamed.
After high school, I took a temporary job filling in for a data entry clerk at Covenant Communications, an LDS-materials-only publishing company who had an employee out on maternity leave. The woman who sat next to me at the front desk had been with the company since the beginning, and had a sweet, demure old lady front--but the truth was, she was a vicious judgmental troll! She had a negative comment about everything, from my Cafe Rio salad ("Uh, gross! Bajio's is so much better!") to my choice in music ("the Lord only wants us to listen to inspired music, so here's more Billy Gilman for your listening pleasures!") to my shoes ("Those are interesting sneakers..."). They were just high-tops!
She saw me reading this book and commented that she read it and hated it. Right as she said that, another woman zooming past our office stopped and said, "Lacey, what do you like?"
Props to her, years later, because forever this book will be tainted with her disgusted look over the cubicle stall--"You're reading that? Ugh!"

Book read: The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath by... Sylvia Plath
Book's lesson: Even the strong shall fall.
Lesson rendered: Depression can be contagious.
After reading this book for a day, I sunk into my couch and decided she was right about so many things. She articulated that which I didn't dare to say out loud--as if she had stolen the thoughts right from my mind. I read for a few more days, then solemnly put the book away until I was in a happier place in my life. When Finley turned about six months old, I knew life couldn't possibly be better, so I finished it and decided that no matter how much depression hurts and how embarrassed I may be, I will not forgo asking for help. Not if it saves my life.

I love thinking, "Where was I when I read that?" And undoubtedly there are many other anecdotes that pop up with mention of other books--amazing how the brain can connect the dots like this.