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Don't do this

J

Jughead

New Member
For some reason I got it into my head to revisit some of the books that had a profound influence on me as a teenager. Sadly, I neglected to factor into the equation that I had a teenagers mind when I read them.

I stopped at two and will no longer revisit any of the other ones.

First up was Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance - I first read this when I was 15 or 16 and thought that it was wise, insightful, knew the truth and offered a spiritual course of some relevance. I had always held it in relatively high esteem. Now at 38 I realize it is pseudo-spiritual in a Hallmark card new age sort of fashion, makes little sense and is rife with idiotic cliche and turgid prose. What was once a nice memory is gone.

Second on the list was Kerouac's On The Road. I realize there are likely fans of his on these boards and truly don't want to offend or come across as belittling so take this for what it's worth - my experience based on what I conceived the book to be as a teenager versus how I interpret it now. I read the book when I was around 16 and at the time considered the beat writers to be to-notch literature. Having reread it, well it truly is silly and a bit too in love with itself. It reminded me of listening to a Doors record. Jim Morrison through my teenage eyes was a poet. Having now completed a degree in literature specialized in poetry I realize he was a rock singer. I complained about this the other day to a friend. He told me that Morrison was a poet for teenagers because he wrote poetry for teenagers and that I should leave well enough alone.

So, I have stopped rereading the list because quite frankly, life does a more than adequate job of dispelling your illussions without going out of your way to do it yourself.
 
Isn't it funny how some books are so wonderful when we read them the first time, and so blah the next. Thankfully they aren't ALL like that! The ones I like are the ones that were blah the first time, and WoW the next :cool:
 
Conversely you could re-read something and find beauty and depth in it that your younger eyes didn't see. I am less likely to reread something that I thoroughly enjoyed than I am to reread something that I didn't quite get or paid little attention to for whatever reason. It's certainly a risk especially if you're a non-rereader to begin with.
 
I'm still torn a bit with my thoughts about this though. I think my evaluation of them at the time I read them was on some level correct in that they spoke to me in context to my age and life experience. As I find myself pushing 40, with three kids and firmly entrenched in the mundane machinations of adult hood, I am a different audience. I am sure there are some books that I would still reread and find full of charm, appeal and intelligence. But you do run the risk of tainting memories.

On the flip side, I just finished reading Where The Red Ferns Grow to my son. It was one of my favourite books growing up. It has always been the first book that pops into my head when asked to think of books that most influenced or impacted. I still found it wonderful but perhaps that was because I read it with one eye on my kid and could see the words eliciting some of the same reactions I remember.
 
I can understand a sense of loss when you realise they are not as thought provoking and insightful as you first thought, but be satisfied that you have improved as a reader and as a thinker since your teenage years. Personally, I think I would be disappointed if I went back and re-read a book and *didn't* find that I had matured as a reader since I last read it.
 
I agree with what you're saying. I new that I had grown more literate and polished in my reading and analytical skills. Truly, I didn't think the books would hold the same power for me as they did. What i wasn't fully expecting was the loss of the idea and sense of the feelings those books once instilled in me. To a degree, it's a bit like finding out there is no Santa Clause (not sure if I should use the spoiler black here or not)
 
This is true for anything though, films, books - whatever. It can even happen with locations: was this beach always covered in needles and used condoms? Sometimes these things are best left as memories.

Oh, On the Road always was, and always will be, up its own arse.
 
No that's not the case. My childhood was perfect. Everything was nice and rosy and people were kind and the trees were made of chocolate and there was no crime or hurt feelings. Damn kids today with their crazy hip-hop music, oh how I long for the halcyon perfection of my youth. There is also a chance I was self centred and didn't really pay attention to much around me. Growing up sucks, I want to be eleven forever.
 
Yeah eleven sounds about right. Eleven and free from popular media so my brain isn't rotted from jiggy people hiphopping.
 
Eleven was great. Enough freedom from your parents to go out and play with your friends but still young enough to not be complicated by employment, girls, etc. Summers when I was eleven were perfect. Get up, eat, ride bike with friends, fish, eat more, play soccer, eat, watch TV, eat, play baseball, eat go to bed. How sweet it was.

Although sex and Guiness are pretty cool.
 
Yeah there are priviledges to adulthood would be sad to give up. Maybe the rights of adulthood with the responsibilities of being eleven? The intellectual deficiency of being eleven may annoying too. Although the ignorance of being eleven could be considered better than the weight of knowledge.
 
Personally, I plan on re-reading a few books that I didn't take an intrinsic interest in during my younger years. My friends and I owe the english instructor an apology.:eek:
 
It does sometimes cut the other way. I read Moby Dick when I was 18 as part of the curriculum for university. I absolutely hated the book. It still ranks as one of my all time most tedious reads (and this is coming from a guy who had to read everything James Fenimore Cooper wrote). I decided in my late twenties to reread it on the assumption that youth, a preoccupation with pub nights and girls may have prevented me from giving it a fair shake. It was still horrible and boring. Tried again last year after another decade of maturation. Still hated it but at least this time had the sense to stop reading. If nothing else, I did learn something from Moby Dick. Stop reading it.
 
"Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintainence"

I just finished re-reading, "Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintainence" that I originally read as a teenager. I got the point of the book and some of it's meaning as a teen, but it makes much more sense to me now. Funny how our experiences deepen our understanding over time.
 
Moby Dick is one of the few books I never finished as a teen. I was fifteen or so when I tried it last. I am going to try it again sometime soon. I always give priority to books I haven't read over something I am considering rereading.
 
When I was in my mid-teens the movie "Billy Jack" came out. I went to see it with one of my friends and was SO impressed - I came home to our suburban tract house in the middle of the San Fernando Valley and breathlessly told my parents that it was the best movie I had ever seen in my WHOLE LIFE and that they had to go see it right away!!! They did, and have never stopped teasing me about it since, since it must surely be one of the worst films of all time. As a sheltered teenager, I thought it was profound and loved its messages about freedom and not giving in and rebellion and blah blah blah. I couldn't see that it was totally unrealistic - not to mention that the acting was laughably bad, the story derivative and that even the theme song was insufferably pious and simplistic. Although it did have a nice tune.

Lots of books were that way for me, too, but poor old "Billy Jack" takes the prize in terms of sheer embarrassment and bad taste.

Interestingly, I appreciate a lot of children's books now in ways I didn't as a child. Things like the "Alice" books are full of things that I didn't understand at the time and now love discovering. For example, I didn't know back then that "How doth the Little Crocodile" was based on "How doth the little Busy Bee", and I surely did not understand the mathematical significance of the whole chess board scene in "Through the Looking Glass". I love re-reading those books now that I know things like the "red queen theory" in biology; it gives it a whole new perspective.

Fun thread.
 
AHHHHHHH, Billy Jack! Man alive, I too shared the view that this was an "important" film. Yikes. Made me laugh recalling that. It also makes me appreciate my father more because he took my enthusiasm in stride and respected it and listened while in the back of his mind I now know a voice must have been wailing, "it's shite, it's shite, open your eyes boy!"

Hopefully he passed the patience along to me and the wisdom to remember my own impressions of the world as a teenager when I am dealing with my kids.
 
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