50 Books to Read Before You Die

words to inspire before you expire

Tag: Children’s Literature

Missing From the List: A Series of Unfortunate Events

February 15, 2019 /

Hello again, class.

At this point, I’ve picked more than 20 books that are “missing from the list”—books that I think deserve to be read as much as the “50 Books to Read Before You Die.” They all stand out for one reason or another . . . they all feature some crucial element not found on the original list. The Outsiders is hallmark young adult fiction, in a way that the other 50 books fails to deliver; The Shining is one of the best horror novels of all time, and horror in its own right is not as featured on the list as it should be; Citizen is one-of-a-kind, a cultural collage of racism in America; and there’s nothing in children’s literature quite like the works of Dr. Seuss.

Then there’s Cloud Atlas—a book that I chose to write about not because it had something crucial the list was missing . . . but because it mashes the best books on the list together. Cloud Atlas is not one book, but several—it’s a montage of genres throughout time that resonates more strongly as one piece. In a way, it’s its own library.

The full set of the 13 book series, A Series of Unfortunate Events, published from 1999-2006.

The same can be said of A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket. This 13-book series is filled to the brim with cues from the greatest books of all time, so that each new character, plot device, or unfortunate event is the makings of Lemony Snicket’s personal, quirky library. From 1984 to Moby Dick, and from the poetry of T. S. Eliot to The Little Engine That Could, Lemony Snicket filled his books with other books and made something original: a modern literary canon for kids, as well as a part-time dictionary, a how-to manual, and a kind but constant reminder that the world is a treacherous place . . . and that knowledge, dedication, and empathy are the tools one needs to fight treachery.

I’m not sure that a synopsis is needed for a series this famous, but just in case . . . this is the miserable story of the Baudelaire children, who, after a fire in their home, become the Baudelaire orphans. Violet, Klaus, and Sunny, each with their own talents and skills, are thrust into a world without the comforts of home and with only the memory of their parents, and they fall into the hands of Count Olaf, a villain who wants to steal the Baudelaire fortune. Time and again the Baudelaires escape his clutches, and time and again he catches up to them, making every chapter in their lives seem more unfortunate than the last.

The first book, titled The Bad Beginning (1999)

And no—it’s not a happy children’s story. The narrator makes that unbelievably obvious in every single installment, writing about how dreadful the lives of these children are and how you, dear reader, would be far better off not reading this story at all. That’s part of the genius of A Series of Unfortunate Events—author Daniel Handler, who created the fictional narrator Lemony Snicket, writes in a way that makes this tragic story absurdly interesting. I’ve said it before . . . it’s almost impossible to describe, it simply has to be experienced.

There are several reasons I think A Series of Unfortunate Events should be included on the list. For one thing, the series handles concepts like grief and sadness in ways that are perfect for children and teenagers, without compromising on those concepts to make them “child-friendly.” Evil exists, and Count Olaf represents it, but that evil has been in this world long before Count Olaf appeared and it will be here long after he’s gone. Facing evil takes love, like love for a sibling, love for those we’ve lost, and love for others in this world that are suffering, who need a volunteer to help them—and not simply a blind, thoughtless love, but a courageous, unconditional love of understanding and acceptance. That kind of love can be hard to find in a world of schisms and fires, but it’s our last hope against evil, and we must cling to it.

A symbol used throughout all 13 books, revealing many secrets for the Baudelaires. It most commonly appears as the sinister tattoo on Count Olaf’s ankle.

With that as the backbone of the story, what remains is an absurd world filled with poorly named reptiles, hypnotism, a pit of hungry lions, several angry mobs, a bad acting troupe, vicious leeches, a deadly fungus, and a secret organization filled with codes, disguises, weapons, and more mysteries than can be imagined. The story is ridiculous, often funny even, and stands out accordingly.

And for all that, there’s a reason it belongs on the list that’s special—the thing that makes this series special, not just among children’s literature but among all stories. It’s the same thing that makes Cloud Atlas special—A Series of Unfortunate Events is, among other things, a complicated concoction of the greatest moments of literature, and that blended result is something entirely different than what came before. It’s even a direct reflection of the 50-books list itself, taking the old stories and making them new. A Series of Unfortunate Events is a library all on its own, and this is a story that loves how a library can be a kind of sanctuary—a place that fosters curiosity, provides access to knowledge, and can be one of the last safe places in a dangerous world.

This blogger can testify that stories and books have always been a refuge. Stories can take you places you’ve never seen, reveal truths you’ve never imagined, and comfort you when you’ve never been lonelier. Lemony Snicket understands that better than most, and he understands that stories can give you the tools you need to go out into the world after you’ve set the book down. Even if this series isn’t for everybody, I can personally testify that it’s one of the forces of good in our treacherous world.

I’m not sure if I can say the same about Catch-22, which I’m still finishing up for next time. I’ve said already that it’s sort of an anti-story—and an anti-war story to boot. It’s experimental, and that’s always a plus in my readings. I think there’s a subtle reference to Catch-22 in A Series of Unfortunate Events, but I can’t be completely sure—emotionally, the two stories aren’t that far apart from each other, so it doesn’t surprise me. The horrors of war played for laughs in a comedy of the absurd would be the perfect inspiration for the Baudelaire’s ridiculously miserable lives.

Either way . . . more on Catch-22 next time. Until then,

Prof. Jeffrey

Missing From the List: The Giver

September 7, 2017 /

Hello again, class.

Everything about Brave New World that depresses me is something that gives me hope in Lois Lowry’s The Giver. It’s the same futuristic society, heavily medicated and rid of all the emotions that plague humanity; but there’s room for change. There’s a hero with the emotional strength and the courage to do what he thinks is right, and there’s the tiniest cracks in his perfect world for him to slip through, allowing him to succeed. If Brave New World were like this, it probably wouldn’t be as impactful or important.

Thankfully, the comparisons between Brave New World and The Giver end there. For all its similarities, The Giver is actually something quite different, and that’s why I think it should make the list of books to read before you die.

Jonas is a regular 12-year old kid in this futuristic society. At 12, children go through a ceremony designating them to a role in the community—Nurturers, Instructors, Pilots, Birthmothers, Laborers, etc. At the ceremony, Jonas is chosen as Receiver of Memory, a rare assignment. He is to spend every day with a older man known as the Giver, and eventually take on his duties.

Jonas’s sessions with the Giver involve the transfer of memories—the Giver gives them, and Jonas receives them. They are the memories of humanity . . . things that Jonas’s community has purposely removed, which only the Giver and Receiver of Memory are allowed to hold. Memories of war, terror, grief, depression, violence . . . but also memories of elation, passion, joy, and love. Even colors have been removed from people’s minds because of what they can do to destabilize society.

Poster from the movie adaptation of The Giver (2014)

Eventually, Jonas begins to see through the cracks. He realizes things should be different, but that won’t happen while everyone else is happy—which, as he comes to understand, really means that everyone is medicated, lied to, and ignorant of the mistakes they are making. And that’s when the action really begins.

The Giver is the first book in a series, and I have yet to read the rest; I hope they are just as amazing as this first entry. For me, The Giver is special. In the same way that reading Brave New World in high school challenged me to read uncomfortable adult literature, reading The Giver in middle school challenged me to imagine literature that wasn’t neatly tied up to perfection. The Harry Potter series, for example, looks like a magical explosion of chaos, but underneath is J. K. Rowling’s carefully constructed artistic mechanism. But Lowry does the opposite: the world she creates is perfectly ordered, but underneath that is humanity trying to break free.

Author Lois Lowry

This is best shown by the ending. Where Harry Potter ties up at least 99% of its loose ends, Lowry leaves the ending of The Giver as open-ended as children’s literature will allow. The action isn’t resolved, the mystery of Jonas’s choice remains a mystery, and there’s only the possibility of hope that Lowry just barely lets readers see before ending the narrative. Sure, there are other installments in the series, but it’s still a daring creative move that did a lot to twist my reading habits.

And that’s the point of The Giver: to give young readers an idea of a perfect society, and to tarnish it; to show readers that perfection, if achievable, is not good. Perfection can actually be what hurts humanity most of all. Our imperfection is better for us in the end.

The fact that Lowry tackles these themes in a book for children makes it all the more powerful. The attempt to teach children themes like these undermines the discomfort of Brave New World because it drives the point home sooner. The particular discomforts of Brave New World outshine The Giver by far, but The Giver gets the chance to show children how to change the world before they realize it needs changing. The book is dedicated to all children, “to whom we entrust the future,” which says a lot about Lowry’s aims. Just another reason why everyone should read it.

As a reminder, next week is my post on Wuthering Heights! Make it to class on time!

Prof. Jeffrey

Missing From the List: The Hobbit

July 12, 2017 /

Welcome back, class.

The Lord of the Rings is a sequel. Sure, it’s the more important and more famous sequel, but it is built on the backbone of another story: The Hobbit. I agree with the makers of the 50-books list that The Lord of the Rings is a story you need to read before you die, but The Hobbit came first, and it belongs on the list for that reason alone—without it, there would be no Lord of the Rings. It also happens to be a great story, with interesting characters and an amazing plot, worth reading in its own right.

Unlike The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit is a children’s novel—the story is simpler, with the same feel as The Wind in the Willows or Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. But it doesn’t sacrifice the depth of Tolkien’s fantasy world by being kid-friendly; Middle-Earth is more extravagant and complete than Narnia, Neverland, and Oz combined. The only difference in The Hobbit is that it’s for all ages.

And despite this major difference, unsurprisingly, most of the themes and characters are the same in both books. Bilbo Baggins, Gandalf the Grey, and Gollum are the major characters that appear in both stories, and Bilbo obtaining the ring changes the fate of every character in The Lord of the Rings. I like to think that the books themselves mirror one of the novels’ major themes, that the smallest creature or character can change the world—The Lord of the Rings wouldn’t have been possible without the efforts of this one little children’s book.

Author J. R. R. Tolkien

Tolkien also contrasts the spirit of adventure with the longing for home in both stories. Bilbo’s adventure to save the dwarves’ home, his fear of going on an adventure at all, his delight at the comforts of home and his desire to return . . . Tolkien captures it beautifully. It’s early writers like Tolkien, who sold universal themes like these with hobbits and dwarves—just like other authors who sold them with talking animals, magical portals, and villainous monsters—that made fantasy popular for children and adults.

Oh, a hand up in the back—you ask, why read The Hobbit at all if it’s exactly like The Lord of the Rings, but for kids? We’ve already read one, why read the other?

If you don’t like reading, fine, don’t read The Hobbit. But if you enjoyed The Lord of the Rings and haven’t read The Hobbit, it’s certainly worth trying! And even though they are remarkably similar—like any two books written by the same author—these aren’t the same story. There are plenty of new characters, interesting and suspenseful situations, more witty and cheesy dialogue, all wrapped up by an exciting and heartfelt adventure. I wouldn’t say it’s better than The Lord of the Rings, but it’s definitely just as good.

It’s also easier and shorter.

Like I mentioned last week, I’m reading To Kill a Mockingbird now. It’ll be book #25!!

Until then, have an excellent week.

Prof. Jeffrey

The Wind in the Willows

July 5, 2017 /

Hello again, class.

The Wind in the Willows is one of the most pleasant stories I’ve read in a long time. It’s short and entertaining, full of talking animals on crazy adventures, and never shallow enough to lose suspension of disbelief. More importantly, it’s a children’s story—easily what a parent would read to their children every night, which means unlike most novels on the 50-books list, this actually is something everyone should (and could) read.

The story follows four animal characters, who each live on or around a great river: the Mole, the Water Rat, the Toad, and the Badger. Their stories intersect mildly, as the Mole adventurously abandons his home or the Toad tries desperately to return to his own, and the characters gather together at the end to wrap up the plot. It’s funny and sweet.

Author Kenneth Grahame

I don’t think the story and characters would be all that special, though, if it wasn’t for Kenneth Grahame’s writing. He adapted the bedtime stories he would tell his son into this novel, and because of that, he made it meaningful. Grahame balanced the animal-instinct for adventure with the desire for the comforts of home; he harnessed the distinctions between creatures and embraced those differences; and he portrayed the simple elements of nature with the same depth and complexity as the world of humanity can be perceived—at least by a child. His care for this story made it beautiful, and that’s why it makes the list.

Everything seems to have a dream-like quality as well, and that’s no mistake—the word “dream” is used obnoxiously often. Apart from a few main story arcs, most of the chapters feel like individual short stories, jumping between random plot points like a dream would. The talking animals, the exciting adventures, the beautifully comforting language . . . The Wind in the Willows is a childhood dream brought to life.

I do still question it’s inclusion on the list. The excellent writing and the portrayal of a child’s fantasy dreamworld is already on the list—Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Lewis Carroll’s classic is also much more popular and more fantasy-heavy than The Wind in the Willows, so why include Grahame’s novel at all? If we needed another children’s fantasy, we could have also included The Hobbit or Peter Pan . . . why The Wind in the Willows?

I don’t have much of an answer. It’s not that The Wind in the Willows is bad, but there are plenty of books missing from this list. Any one of them could have replaced this one. In any case, this would only be a concern if we were ranking the books on this list, and since that’s not what the list is about, I encourage you all to give this story a go.

I’m reading Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird next—for my book #25! Halfway there! And there’s no better book to wrap up the first half of my blog with.

Until next time!

Prof. Jeffrey

Missing From the List: Dr. Seuss’s Children’s Books

June 14, 2017 /

Good morning class.

The 50-books list has a handful of options marketed for children: i.e.,  Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and the Harry Potter series. But I think it’s strange that there isn’t a single entry on the list by Dr. Seuss—a man whose work is synonymous with children’s literature.

Dr. Seuss’ picture books cover a wide range of topics marketed for all ages. In his quirky, made-up-rhymes, overused-exclamation-points way, he tackles environmentalism, prejudice, and politics alongside boredom, bullying, and loneliness, and it’s never dull. So I officially declare that at least one of Dr. Seuss’ works should be one of the 50 books you read before you die.

I’m too weak to claim one is better than the rest, so I chose my top 5!

1. Horton Hears a Who!

Statue of Thodor Seuss Geisel and his “Cat in the Hat” character.

Symbolically, the politics in this story are about involvement vs. isolationism—what happens when those with power intervene to help those without. Written in the 1950’s, this could easily be about WWII or the American-Korean conflict, criticizing Americans who wanted to stay out of international issues. Dr. Seuss rarely shied away from such controversial topics, even when writing for kids.

But even if that was Dr. Seuss’ intention, the messages for kids are more wholesome: all people are equal, even if they don’t have the power to say so; stick to your true beliefs, even if others make fun of you or hurt you for them; and every voice counts in times of trouble, so don’t be afraid to stand with others. This book is inspiring, and an emotional rollercoaster. Of course there’s a happy ending, but that doesn’t make it less stressful when the town of Whoville is moments away from being destroyed toward the end—I get chills reading it every time.

2. How the Grinch Stole Christmas!

I think it’s a stroke of genius from Dr. Seuss that the Grinch hates Christmas simply for the sake of hating Christmas. He hates the noise and the feasting and the singing—there’s no explanation, just that he hates it from the bottom of his too-small heart. It makes him instantly unlikable and easy to transform by the end.

And by the end, the message is clear—Christmas is more than decorations and gifts. Dr. Seuss doesn’t say what Christmas is beyond that, because that’s enough. Christmas may look flashy and bright, but what it actually is—the love and joy and peace-on-Earth that it stands for—is beyond words. Not many Christmas stories can relay that message well, and this is one of the few.

3. The Lorax

I tend to forget that “The Lorax” has a happy ending, because the death and decay caused by the greedy Once-ler’s business fills up so much of the story, and packs such a powerful punch, that the end just can’t match. Watching the bright and colorful land of the Lorax darken page by page, and seeing the devastating results of a rampaging business, has stuck with me more than the final scene, where the remorseful Once-ler passes a final Truffula seed to a stranger, who may be able to bring the forest back.

The environmental message is painful and foreboding (particularly, the whack of the final tree cut down and the Lorax’s final trace in his land, the word “UNLESS,” are both emotional battering rams). It’s a sad story, even with the happy ending, and most writers wouldn’t dare write such a story targeted at children—though the message probably means more to adults anyway, as they read this story to their children, their eyes forced open to the injustice toward the Earth. Because of this, I think “The Lorax” says more about Dr. Seuss than most of his books.

Author and Illustrator Theodor Seuss Geisel

4. The Sneetches

This is one of Dr. Seuss’s underrated masterpieces—I’ve only met a handful of people that recognize it. But I grew up with “The Sneetches,” and it’s themes of prejudice, greed, and classism are with me to this day.

The Sneetches are a divided people, the privileged identified by stars on their bellies, and the rest with no “stars upon thars.” Then along comes Sylvester McMonkey McBean with his star-adding machine, which can put stars on the Sneetches bellies and give them the world they could never have—all for three dollars each. But then, all the Sneetches are equal, which doesn’t sit well with the Sneetches born with their stars. So they go through McBean’s star-off machine, upsetting the rest of the Sneetches . . . well, chaos ensues.

The Sneetches learn their lesson, of course—a Sneetch is a Sneetch, star or no. It’s one of those lessons that people are still working on, and the Sneetches are a good model to study.

5. Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

In a previous post, I talked about this book as particularly special to me—like all of Dr. Seuss’ books, it has a way of speaking to the soul. It doesn’t have a big story or political message, but it’s full of hope and inspiration. Dr. Seuss tells the reader directly what they will face, both the good and the bad, as they grow up and move out into the wide weird world.

“Oh, the Places You’ll Go” doesn’t shy away from the pain, fear, and loneliness the world can cause (even if it’s in Dr. Seuss’ quirky way, it still means a lot). Coupled with the determination, success, and wonder the reader will meet, the good and the bad balance each other out, and make the message more meaningful. But it scales back at the end—the glamour and glory of all these possible new places boils down to an almost-blank page, leaving it to the reader to imagine what’s next. It’s a very hopeful message.

Even with these 5 favorites, I still feel like I’m missing several of Dr. Seuss’ greatest works—I probably forgot a few. Tell me your favorite Dr. Seuss picture book in the comments!

Next week, I’ll be writing about The Great Gatsby, so be prepared to discuss. It’s probably the easiest and most comfortable literature I’ve ever read, but it’s also one of the most layered and complex stories I’ve ever come across. But more on that next time.

Have a good week!

Prof. Jeffrey

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