Top 5 best books that college professors made me read
As an English major, it pains me to admit that I hardly ever read for fun during college. While I would like to say that block classes and city internships monopolized my spare time, the truth is, I was so tired of reading for class that I could hardly muster up the willpower to read for leisure. The thing about college though, especially when you’re studying literature, is that you’re bound to stumble on something you actually enjoy. Excluding the standard reading list toppers, like The Great Gastsby or Pride and Prejudice, here are a few books that were so meaningful, I forgot I was reading them for a grade: The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut Why it’s awesome: Prior to taking this class, I discovered, much to my dismay, that most professors shied away from including science fiction and fantasy novels in their assigned readings. Unless the class were specifically geared toward some exotic genre, like Horror Studies 101 (which closed thanks to a lack of attendance), most professors preferred literature concerning non-fantastical human drama. Imagine my delight when I flipped through the syllabus of Modern American Novels to see The Sirens of Titan just beneath an Ernest Hemingway novel. Vonnegut’s book is trippy, satirical and unabashedly weird. A man and his dog travel on a spiral between Betelgeuse and the sun. Martians lose their memory before invading earth. Throw in an unlikely messianic figure and you have something as entertaining as it is philosophical. The novel might take place in some alternate future or universe, but its themes are as relevant as they can get. The Great Fires by Jack Gilbert Why it’s awesome: Jack Gilbert’s quiet collection of poems broke my heart, and I don’t even like contemporary poetry. The professor assigned us this book as an example of confronting one’s demons, and despite my resistance to their form, I ended up feeling moved by the poems’ modest sincerity. That being said, Gilbert’s style of poetry is simple, direct, and thoroughly lacking in pretension. You won’t find made-up words or allusions to obscure Italian texts here, just distressing anecdotes from a sad and lonely man. The book handles heavy issues, like Gilbert’s extramarital affairs and the death of his wife, with such subtlety, that you feel as if you’re grieving with the poet, not because of him. I recommend The Great Fires to anyone who’s looking for a an earnest, slightly devastating take on adult life. Far From the Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy Why it’s awesome: What initially impressed me as a complete snoozefest, thanks to its 19th-century farm town setting, turned out to be a dangerous tale of romantic convolution. Plus, it features an unconventional cast of characters: The female lead, Bathsheba Everdene, is not only headstrong and smart, but she manages her own farm. As plucky female leads are apt to do, though, she attracts a slew of male suitors. The first is nice guy Gabriel Oak, an honest, loyal and apparently boring farmer. Then comes William Boldwood, a wealthy bachelor who falls for Bathsheba after she pranks him with a Valentine card. If that weren’t dramatic enough, smooth-talking pretty-boy Sergeant Troy returns from service. Far From the Madding Crowd is a must-read if you’re into love triangles! Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad Why it’s awesome: I won’t lie, this was a tough read. The language is dense, the symbolism is grotesque, and the themes are overwhelmingly morbid. Then again, what else can you expect from something titled Heart of Darkness? It inspired Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now, after all. Overall, Heart of Darkness is a pretty unsettling read, but it’s a rare piece of literature that confronts the duality of human nature - that is, the savage and civilized parts of our hearts - with such creepy finesse. The story follows Charles Marlow, a a steamship captain who travels down the Congo River to retrieve Kurtz, an ambitious ivory collector. What Marlow finds will disturb you into reevaluating your motives for and means of personal success. Plus, nearly every contemporary literary villain or unreliable protagonist fits Kurtz’s profile in some way, which makes Heart of Darkness a practical resource for cultural allusions, in case you’re ever stuck on an essay. Symposium by Plato Why it’s awesome: Here’s the premise: seven Greek men, including Socrates, attend a wine-drinking party, where they gather ‘round to discuss the origins, nature and purpose of Love. If that hasn’t already sold you, sections are divided by the speeches each man delivers. The speeches not only develop on each other, but they grow deeper with each successive participant. According to one man, love the most ancient of gods, and thus has no parents. According to another, love has a mother and father (I won’t spoil who they are.) Symposium appeals to both thinkers and feelers, as the rhetoric employs equal amounts of logic and borderline sentimentality to argue for the relationship between love and knowledge. Happy reading, Chicks! Denise Ngo graduated from Fordham University in 2009. When she’s not asking herself, Avenue Q-style, what one does with a B.A. in English, she’s surfing Amazon for bargain books or hunting down the novelty food trucks in New York City.
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