High School: Part 3

Can other peoples' opinions affect how much you love or hate a book?

We're not leaving my sophomore year of high school just yet.  The last project of the year and if I remember, this affected our grade more than our final, was on the Pulitzer Prize winners.  All students got a list of the Pulitzer winners and we each had to pick one of those books and do a presentation on them one month later.  I chose The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck, because I knew my parents had that one sitting on their bookshelves so I didn't have to break my neck looking for it at the public libraries or buy it at the bookstore.

Now, my teacher did warn me, "You better like that book because it is my favorite novel of all time."

I saluted her and went to work.

The truth was, I liked it.  Sure, it wasn't the greatest story I'd ever read.  I didn't care for the pastor at all and the problems that some of the Joad family members had were their own fault.  But overall, it was a very touching story about survival in desperate times and how to keep hope alive when all the forces of earth are against you.  Ma Joad and Rosasharn were some really spectacular ladies to me.

I worked harder than I should have on my presentation but I didn't want to disappoint my teacher.  I recognized that she was holding me to a higher standard than the other students because of the book I'd chosen and I tried to reflect that.  I modeled a little of my presentation off one of the other students and chose to include the same type of humor he'd had.

It worked.  I had the students giggling for seven minutes while I think I did a decent (for a high schooler) job of advocating the work.  But one of the jokes really rubbed my teacher the wrong way.  Can't remember what I said but she did something she hadn't done to any of the students before or since: interrupted me in the middle of a sentence.  "You are not a book critic," she started and for a minute chewed me up one side and down the other.  I don't think the class had ever been so quiet; everybody's eyes were on me, nobody blinking, and I could feel my face turning red.  I stuttered and stumbled for the next two minutes finishing up, but it was wrecked.  The big bang I planned to end on became a whimper of despair.  I went back to my seat head down and didn't even listen to the rest of the presentations that day.

Some of my peers commiserated with me.  Students that I never really spoke to assured me I'd done a good job and didn't know what stick had been shoved up our teacher's butt.  Nevertheless, my final grade for the class went down a whole letter (A to a B; big deal.)  I honestly didn't care about the grade.  I already knew that her grading system was skewed, more so than any other teacher I'd had.  What got me was being embarrassed in front of the whole class.  Public speaking terrified me back then and being humiliated like this was the worst.  I didn't forgive her for months afterwards.

(There was a good side to this.  I've never had the same fear of public speaking since.  I recognized that yeah, I got burned, but it didn't wreck my life.  Indeed, I ended up taking Public Speaking classes in college and have been invited numerous times in my church to speak to the congregation.  I'm still not a great public speaker but it's not the worst thing that could ever happen to me.)

I'm not sharing this for any pity.  In the big scheme of things, this embarrassment was nothing.  I've had worse experiences that are far more meaningful than this will ever be.

The reason I share this is that before the presentation, I had nothing but good things to say about The Grapes of Wrath.  I was telling whoever would listen that this was actually a pretty good book.  Well-written and thought-out, compelling characters, what-have-you.  After the tongue-lashing, the rest of high school, I did a 180-degree turn and bad-mouthed The Grapes of Wrath like none other.  "Stupidest book I ever had to read in school," I said over and over.  I harped on the shortcomings and said the Pulitzer had to be a joke to let something like this get any attention.

It wasn't until college and I had time to think about it when I remembered how it really was.  I had enjoyed The Grapes of Wrath until that presentation.  It was the first time I realized that the reason I hated The Grapes of Wrath had nothing to do with the book itself; I hated the memories that were associated with that book.  It was this realization that brought to seek out more of Steinbeck's works to see if he was better or worse than I remembered.  It was how I discovered Cannery Row and still remember that as one of the most pleasant stories I wish I could tell.

The reason I share this is because we do associate stories with our real life experiences.  I don't know why this is, I'm just saying that it exists.  It's a double-edge sword, but just like The Grapes of Wrath is tied in my mind to a bad memory, there are many other books out there that are tied to good memories.  It's why I keep reading at the sacrifice of other fun things I could be doing.

Think back on your own experiences with books you read.  Have you ever had a story tie in to your life in such a way, for good or ill?