It's a Classic Part 2...

In my previous blog post 'It's a Classic' I contemplated whether I should broaden my reading horizons and branch out into 'classic' fiction rather than simply contemporary. I figured it was time to give the old guys a chance...although I have to admit I cheated a little.

Instead of Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights or Bleak House, I opted for The Great Gatsby and The Catcher in the Rye. Two of the 'three perfect books' in American literature according to the critic Adam Gopnik, the other being The Adventures of Hucklebury Finn. (http://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/feb/02/100-best-novels-catcher-in-the-rye-jd-salinger-holden-caulfield)

There's something that appeals to me about American novels set in this time period. Full of hope and excitement rather than despair and gross inequality. The streets are paved with gold rather than mill soot and there's a bit more intrigue to them than 'will she marry for money or follow her heart and stick with the stable boy?'

I can feel you all shaking your collective heads despondently. Such a negative perspective, you say, and I would have to agree. But it's quite a difficult one to shake off.

I grew up in a former mill town in Yorkshire, not poor but certainly not rich. A traditional working class family with hard working parents trying to make something of their lives. I grew up with a book in my hand and quickly established a preference for pure escapism.

America may as well have been Mars as far as I was concerned. An exciting land millions of miles away full of exciting people with shiny teeth. 

Anything that involved the 'so called' lower classes doffing their hats to the 'supposed' upper echelons made me see red. An entire novel based on whether some privileged young woman would spend her life sewing/playing the piano/reading to elderly relatives in one drawing room or the one on the estate next door was not my idea of a good time. 

Anyway...I enjoyed The Great Gatsby (and the recent film even more than the book *gasp*) but The Catcher in the Rye did absolutely nothing for me...because nothing happened. Here was a book that many have cited as changing their lives but after turning the last page I was left thinking, 'Was that it?'

I'm guessing I was supposed to identify with the main characters social awkwardness, with his attempts to understand the world around him, with his battles against the perceptions and privileges of those he was required to deal with. But, how does a girl from a Yorkshire mining town identify with a teenage boy who can afford to leave his private boarding school early to spend a boozy weekend in New York hotels?

I am acutely aware that I have a bit of a chip on my shoulder when it comes to class and social status...and with the current state of politics the chip is starting to turn into a full-on wooden plank...but reading for pleasure is essentially that. For pleasure.

I choose to read books that transport me, whether that's physically transported to fantastical lands and alien civilisations, or emotionally transported into lives that I find engaging.

Sadly (or not?) I'm still not convinced that the race to bag a rich husband is my cup of tea. Although, I promise to give it a go one day. Honest...