*** spoilers and trigger warning for abuse ***
It’s September, which means pumpkin spice and autumn leaves and knitted jumper and Gilmore Girls season has begun. Gilmore Girls is a classic all year round but I find it especially cosy to switch on at this time of year. I become infatuated with the show a few years ago; the neighbourly and welcoming Stars Hollow setting and its quirky inhabitants pulled me straight in. I love how Lorelai Gilmore demonstrates that you don’t need to be perfect to succeed - she’s good at her job, a good mother, a good friend but we still see her arguing with her parents and falling in and out of love with men that are completely wrong for her (looking at you, Christopher. I don’t care how charming you are). She remained endearing throughout the series regardless of her mistakes, mostly because she represented how burdensome generational expectations within families can be.
Rory most certainly inherited her mother’s magnetism and allure and you’d think it be even easier to forgive her for her mistakes - she is the younger Gilmore girl, after all. She was almost enchanting to watch in the first few seasons; her need to succeed and prove herself upon entering a school where everyone was on her level academically had us all enthralled. Like most viewers, I found myself disheartened at Rory’s brash and thoughtless decisions in the later seasons, though in retrospect, I see that Rory represents what nearly every gifted child goes through. After years of praise and reward in their youth, a gifted child grows up and either discovers that they’re average or they suffer a long overdue burnout. There’s nothing wrong with being average, though for an individual who, from a young age, has been worshipped for their intellect by their entire hometown, the understanding that they’re not much different from their neighbours is a bitter pill to swallow. After Mitchum tells Rory that he doesn’t believe she has what it takes to be a journalist, the protagonist is so distraught she proceeds to drop out of college. She is completely unable to handle the criticism because incessant praise is all she knows.
Lorelai lacks Rory’s formal education, having had Rory had sixteen and thereby dropping out of school, however, she excels in her career. Despite her profession not being academic on paper she succeeds in her field; she has the humility to work as a maid to raise her daughter and works herself up to owning her own inn. She continues to thrive in the reboot, whilst Rory is by no means where she wants to be. Whilst Rory’s downfall is distressing to see, I appreciate how realistic it is. At times I wonder whether I work hard because I want to succeed or if I’m just trying to top whatever my previous achievement was. Do I just have an internalised desire to be doing better than other people my age? If that’s true, why is that the case? I’m not in education anymore, there’s no sticker or certificate or prefect badge awaiting if this occurs. I’ve thought about this long and hard, and I think my wish to do well pertains mostly to proving to my parents that I’m capable of doing so. Disappointing my parents on the academic front throughout the years has always been an agony I’ve carried.
The most engaging aspect of Rory’s character is her love of reading. Throughout the series, Rory apparently reads 518 novels. I have not read all 518, though several of the books are on my to-read list. With it being Gilmore Girls season, I thought a blog post dedicated to some of the books I have read on Rory’s list and what my thoughts were would be fitting.
1984 by George Orwell
I’m so grateful for how university dragged me out of the angsty but comforting YA rabbit hole I’d fallen into. 1984, as well as Animal Farm, were two novels that had been on my ‘to-read’ list for years prior to me studying them in my third year. Both novels are complete masterpieces albeit insane political horror stories. In 1984, Orwell writes of the UK becoming a totalitarian state; the government is in complete control over everyone through its propaganda and surveillance. The population are constantly monitored by telescreens and are reminded that Big Brother, the apparent leader of Oceania, is watching them. None of the characters know whether Big Brother actually exists yet the fear he elicits amongst them is harrowing. Similarly to The Capitol in The Hunger Games decades before the trilogy was ever published, The Party in 1984 are able to practice violence against those who attempt to rebel.
Protagonist Winston Smith works in the Ministry of Truth, a subdivision of the government whose main objective is to publish propaganda and rewrite historical documents. Smith, like many, loathes the policies he must live under and writes of his frustrations in his diary. Merely having such thoughts makes him a ‘thought-criminal’, a term created by Orwell for the novel.
I interpret the novel as a warning; everyone possesses a capacity for evil and in some individuals, it becomes their entire character. The novel succeeds in illustrating a dystopian world which terrifyingly, has more similarities to our lives now than it did when it was published. There's a reason why 'Orwellian' is an actual word in the Oxford dictionary now.
Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
This novel has such a special place in my heart. Carroll exemplifies throughout the novel just how inane and artistic the human imagination can be. Alice’s experiences in Wonderland consist of unfair trials and insolent characters, neither situation helped by her overthinking and struggles with identity. She is constantly asked by every creature who and what she is, so much so that she eventually becomes lost for an answer.
Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee later warn her of the devastating consequences curiosity can have through their tale of the Curious Oysters. The twins teach several very striking lessons here; knowing everything is neither possible nor necessary, and there comes a point where one must let go of their childhood fantasies and grow up. Alice’s inability to comprehend rules and the adult world is what leads to her dreaming up Wonderland in the first place. She bares similarities to Wendy Darling in this regard, though I enjoy Wendy’s tale more; she grew up, but never stopped believing in her stories.
Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl
I vividly remember learning about Anne Frank for the first time in Year 6. I googled her the second I got home from school that day and completely devastated myself with the details that had been hidden from us in the classroom. I purchased her diary on my next Waterstones outing and couldn’t put it down after.
For those of you who haven’t read it, the book is as painful as you can imagine. Anne’s squabbles with her mother and sister and her closeness with her father were immensely relatable to me, as was the comfort she found in writing out her feelings. She writes at one point that ‘I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn’. Anne, after hearing that publishers would be seeking accounts of survivors after the war, excitedly began rewriting her diary whilst continuing to write new entries. In addition to the language barrier, this explains why there are so many versions of her work. How I wish she had lived to see the success that awaited her.
Another one of my favourite elements from the book is Anne’s use of pseudonyms. She calls Fritz Pfeffer, the German dentist who joined the family in hiding in 1942, ‘Mr Dussel’ (German for ‘nitwit’).
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
I read this years ago, but from memory, the titular character bares similarities to Daisy Miller in that despite her effortless allure, she proceeds to put even more effort into making herself available to Count Vronsky, an army officer. Anna arrives in Moscow to ease the tensions between her brother, Prince Stiva, and his wife, Princess Dolly. The prince has been engaging in an extramarital affair, but Anna assures and convinces her sister-in-law that her brother still loves her.
After these events, the novel is split into two storylines, both of which are driven by the protagonist. She becomes involved with Kitty’s (Dolly’s younger sister’s) relationship with Levin, ensuring the former doesn’t become romantically involved with Vronsky. Anna and Vronsky embark on a riveting love affair, and as a reader, it’s up to interpretation whether Vronsky begins to falls out of love with Anna in the later chapters or whether it’s her insecurities and doubts that are telling her this. As a result of their relationship, Anna divorces her husband and becomes estranged from her son.
Having dealt with anxiety and paranoia myself, I don’t believe Vronsky ever falls out of love with Anna. Especially because of the ending. I recently came to the realisation that Taylor Swift’s ‘Hoax’ fits the novel perfectly; Anna is once envied for her beauty until she gets divorced. Her tainted reputation impacts her thought process and decision making, Vronsky’s ‘faithless love’ being all she has left.
Atonement by Ian McEwan
I love the structure of this novel. McEwan’s writing style at the beginning is similar to that of Virginia Woolf’s in To the Lighthouse; the plot is told through a stream of consciousness whilst simultaneously offering an insight into the everyday events of the characters lives. The book opens with 13-year-old Briony’s self-written play 'The Trials of Arabella,' demonstrating her immense talent for literature. The play is about a woman called Arabella who runs away to a seaside town in the hopes to elope with a destitute man, foreshadowing the plot of Atonement, for Briony’s older sister Cecilia engages in a scandalous relationship with the family housekeeper, Robbie.
Admittedly, I read the novel because I desperately wanted to watch the film. My lifelong celebrity crush is James McAvoy and I couldn’t not see him in a romantic war drama. And I have to say, it was totally worth it.
The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
When I first heard ‘Champagne Problems’ by Taylor Swift for the first time it reminded me so much of this novel. (I wrote a poem based on the song if you’d like to read it here).
I find Esther to be a painfully relatable character. Despite being awarded her dream internship, she struggles to find motivation and interest in the magazine she is working for or her New York City accommodation. Her apathetic approach to work comes as a result of the dysphoria and anxiety she is suffering with; she is constantly preoccupied with death and what a world without her presence would look like. She attempts to write a novel but finds herself dissatisfied with her work and despite being unconcerned with her internship, is disheartened to discover she hasn’t been accepted for a writing course she applied for.
I feel as though the expectations put on youths to succeed after university as well as the detachment one undergoes from activities that would have once bought them joy are topics not discussed heavily enough. Esther’s many career and personal setbacks lead her to becoming more reclusive as the novel progresses. She attempts several psychological treatments including ECT to aid her dysphoria and sleeping pills for her insomnia, though nothing seems to help. To me, the novel is a complete work of art. Plath's prose reads like poetry, so much so that I can physically feel Esther's agony.
Despite the traumatic topics within the novel, there is a moderately hopeful ending, an ending more sanguine than Anna Karenina’s for sure.
Anyone familiar with the works of Sylvia Plath will tell you that she's mostly doom and gloom, though there's an underlying artistry to her works. I've never seen another writer weave their own pain into their prose so intimately. In a letter to Ann Davidow in 1951, Plath states that she feels her 'introspection and queer thoughts always make (Plath) feel no one will understand. When I love someone, I make myself increasingly vulnerable to them'. I believe Plath used Esther to address her own agony; the character faces one tribulation after another and fails to find a long-term remedy to her depression.
Beloved by Toni Morrison
I read and studied this book in my second year of university for my ‘Gothic literature’ module. Until then, I’d never heard of the book. I’d never even heard of Toni Morrison, but now I see the book and the author’s name everywhere I go. I wouldn’t call the book a favourite however I appreciated Morrison’s piercing tone - there’s no space for a reader to relate to the characters or picture themselves within her plot. In doing so, she offers a voice to the enslaved, a group so marginalised they wouldn’t find a voice without her shrewd prose.
Sethe, the protagonist, escaped slavery from a plantation called Sweet Home. She lives with her daughter Denver in a home which she believes is haunted by her deceased eldest daughter. She also has two sons, Burglar and Howard, who left the home at 13 as a result of the ghost. She is visited by Paul D, one of the enslaved men, who proceeds to force out the ghost from Sethe’s home. From memory, the spirit takes the form of Beloved, a young woman who Sethe’s oldest daughter would have grown up to be had she not been murdered. The novel takes a bizzare turn; Sethe and Denver take the woman in despite Paul D expressing his concerns to Sethe.
I found the novel incomprehensible from this point onwards though I don’t believe Morrison’s articulation is the issue. I remember my lecturer telling us that week that the only way to understand the novel is to read it with an empty mind - attempting to comprehend what is going on leads to you subconsciously pairing logic from a world that Morrison didn’t write the book with, hence the lack of clarity.
Perhaps he was right.
Carrie by Stephen King
I read this 10 years ago during my summer holidays. I was desperate to impress whatever English teacher I would end up having in the new school year and to be fair, I think I succeeded. Everyone knows the plot of Carrie be that through adaptions, parodies or just reading the book. Far and away the best adaption is the 1976 film, though I think the 2013 film does a better job at portraying Carrie as the tragic female character that she is. The Brian De Palma film is a horror, and a good one at that.
Carrie is a victim to me as opposed to a villain. She suffers a psychotic break after the pig blood incident due to completely losing sense of who she can trust; she deals with constant ridicule amongst her classmates at school and has to tolerate her mother’s bizarre and obsessive religion at home. She was abused and tormented in every corner of her life and eventually hit her breaking point.
Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White
This book has one of the best opening lines in children’s literature, that being Fern asking her mother ‘“where’s Papa going with that axe?” The violent implications went completely over my head when I was eight; to any reader of that age, it seems a completely innocent enquiry to make. Now at the age of twenty-two, the noun ‘axe’ elicits only violent connotations to me.
Despite the novel’s status as a children’s book, White doesn’t tiptoe around topics such as death and mortality. Charlotte demonstrates to Wilbur how she kills and consumes her prey and the reader is given plenty of warnings in regards to her demise. She acknowledges her exhaustion and her upcoming death, her character symbolising the shortness and fragility of life and how all moments, even the happiest, are momentary and brief. To my memory, Charlotte’s death was the first I’d ever read of in a book. The spider’s peaceful acceptance to her life coming to an end was, in retrospect, both admirable and comforting. The lessons she left Wilbur affect me even now.
A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
I read this for the same reason everyone else has read it: school! And I’m glad I did because I loathed Dickens and his writing style after reading Great Expectations at university. His characters were unlikeable, his tone was monotonous and his jokes were outdated. If you’re seeking a strong Victorian bildungsroman, Jane Eyre is the way to go.
Dickens masterfully weaves the morals and ethics one should take from A Chrismas Carol in his prose. Scrooge isn’t any more likeable than Pip, however, Dickens makes him more humane - he had a fiance, sister and father whom he adored, losing them all to his excessive greed and reclusiveness. His disinterest in relationships stems from the taunting he received in school for being so preoccupied with school work, a trait I believe some readers can relate to. There are aspects of his character I dislike however - his lack of sympathy for the Cratchits is inexcusable.
The novel probably has Dickens’ most satisfactory ending in that the protagonist has a change of heart and engages in charitable acts. He still holds the label of the town’s miserable rich man but we leave him on a positive note.
Oh, and the Muppet adaption of the novel is the best.
Thank you so much for reading - I hope you've had a wonderful start to the month. I’m going to split this post into parts since there are quite a few novels to get through, look out for part 2 later this season.
All the love in the world, Karisma xxx