You are what you read
— Me
Two conversational prompts led me to write this post.
The first was a stern interrogation by my book club Secretary and acting Chairperson (same person - channeling 2020 ScoMo). In the face of my two consecutive DNFs, I was reminded that I would face a disciplinary tribunal if I failed to read a third in a row, at threat of expulsion. This is no joking matter, this club - in its various iterations - has been known to take banishment very seriously. My reluctance so far begs the question: what books do I like to read?
The second was a dinner table conversation at iconic Adelaide establishment, Vietnam. My interlocutor was discussing machine learning while picking at quail legs — a magnificent combination. He suggested that one way of thinking of the brain might be as a compressor of all the data it has encountered, analogous to AI. Are we a compression of all that we have read? experienced? Compression didn’t feel right, so we backed down from this mechanistic definition at the time.
Nevertheless, the idea loosely matches a piece of writing advice I have encountered: that writing is downstream from reading. Many (not all) writers say that the first rule of writing is to read widely and voraciously, whilst maintaining discernment about the quality of what is consumed as you might nutrition.
I approach this from two angles, then. To reflect on some of the books I have most enjoyed reading and to consider the books that have most influenced my life.
Among many other lessons, the following novels have shown me the power of literature to reveal higher truths — glimmers of the eternal.
Life is not lived in books. Though I have been guilty of seeking to burrow myself into the safety of their pages, it is not a replacement for being in the world.1 The best of them do, however, show us how the world really is; empowering us to engage with it on our terms.
Apropos of that, a list of six novels that have shaped me and by extension, my writing (in the order I read them).
Siddhartha by Herman Hesse
I read this in Melbourne, Springtime 2018. The context is important because the tremors that would lead to the rupture of my law school experience were emergent. This book was both soothing, agitating, disruptive and awakening. I recall walking through Carlton Gardens upon completion as though scales had been removed from my eyes.
It is a story of the spiritual awakening of a man in India, in the time of the Buddha. Equal parts coming of age tale and story of enlightenment, grounded in Eastern spirituality. A young man struggles to reconcile his taste of reality with his doctrinal education, abandoning his creature comforts for adventure.
It marked the start of a turn towards the spirituality/religion/philosophy aisle in Readings (pronounced like the English football club, I maintain) in Carlton.
Non-fiction pairing: Man’s Search for Meaning, Viktor Frankl. “He who has a WHY to live can bear almost any how” [quoting Nietzsche].
East of Eden by John Steinbeck
I barely remember the story-line, but the emotional experience remains visceral.
An inter-generational family drama with poisonous rivalries and intertwined destinies. A brutal portrayal of character and masterful retelling of the book of Genesis, set in the Californian countryside during WW1. The first book that consistently left my jaw agape. My prevailing memory is of such intimate portrayal of human character that I often felt I had encountered exactly such a face, or expression, described by the author. Steinbeck identifies combinations of words to convey experiences and feelings that lie dormant within us.
I walked into 185 Pelham St (Melbourne Law School) a few weeks prior to the end of semester 2, beaming with joy at having completed this book (recommended by a loyal follower of WW). When I was admonished by a classmate for appearing so happy so close to exams, I responded - recalling that this fellow had been a literature major - that I’d just finished my novel! To which he responded with shock: ‘why, I haven’t read anything but the constitution in months!’ My legal dreams began to die in that moment.
The Odyssey, Homer
I packed this into my rucksack prior to leaving for Kenya on my 2019 Grand Tour. Bag real-estate was tight, but I felt it a necessary addition. The time had come to delve into the roots of my heritage - both as Greek and as enjoyer of Western Civilization.
Written for performance in an auditorium, it is an epic-poem in form, unlike contemporary books. I was not preoccupied with the translation choice - though it was one that maintained the rhyme and lyricism of the original so far as I could tell. That took time to adapt to but made the entire experience more poetic. Book cover of Lattimore’s translation below.
This was a rite of passage reading experience. The coming of age tale of Telemachus (son of the eponymous hero, who hasn’t met his Father due to the Trojan war) and the determination of Odysseus in his yearning to return home. The Olympian gods feature throughout. The repetition of themes can be agitating at first. Seen as oratory devices for an ancient performance, they take on a magic. Descriptions of Blue-eyed Athena, the ominous wine-dark Aegean sea, and cunning Odysseus are akin to ancient entrance songs of the crowd’s favourite stars. Can’t wait to revisit - hopefully one day in Greek.
The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoevsky
Single-handedly the most difficult book I’ve ever read. I legitimately think it took me 11 months of bed-time reading - aided by being in a long distance relationship.
A tale of three brothers, their deranged father and local village drama. Each Karamazov brother is a reflection of a part of the author’s own psyche, mapped against different Russian cultural phenomena: Alyosha, the youngest - a wise and faithful novice monk - a premodern Russia; Ivan, the intelligent, cold, analytical, atheist philosopher from Moscow - harbinger of cultural change; Dimitri, the eldest - the hedonistic Army Captain notorious for his debauchery - symbolic of the stagnancy in between.
This book left an impression in part due to the perseverance required to read it. I also loved its contemplation of faith and the tension between profane and divine, as well as the incredible characters and the insight into Russia.
The climax of the book is a murder trial, with all the attendant gossip, speculation and fear-mongering. I read this while observing (as an associate of the Court) one of the biggest murder trials of the year in the NT. The spectacle unfolding before me in Court and in the news by day and then on the page by night were so essentially similar, that I came to appreciate the book as an insight into psychology, society, law and human drama, emerging from - not contained by - the parochial rural Russian setting.
Non-fictional pairing: Wanting by Luke Burgis. I read this at a similar time, between snorkels on Atauro Island. An introduction to the philosophy of Rene Girard who’s theory of social interaction is that humans are primarily driven by mimesis — “mimicking” one another. Certainly relevant to the way the guilt of the accused is assessed in the novel.
Zorba the Greek by Nikos Kazantzakis
I recall asking a monk on Mount Athos how a genius like Kazantzakis could be excommunicated from the Church. He smiled in knowing agreement. Without going too far down that path, I can confidently say that last year this author became a hero of mine.
The book is about the friendship between an intellectual and a hedonist. The setting is a lignite mine in Crete - owned by the intellectual capitalist, run by his life-devouring friend. Fredrich Nietzche framed Apollo and Dionysus as symbols of two fundamental forces of human nature within us: order & chaos. Kazantzakis’s characters personify the two.
Zorba is wild, a lover, fighter, a vagabond and a rascal; enjoyer of fine things and the basest. He is the best of us and the worst of us. He expresses his emotion through dance, recalling an old adage that a warrior shouldn’t be trusted with a sword until he can dance. This fortified my efforts to learn before my wedding!
The spirit of Zorba is encapsulated in the epigraph on the author’s tomb: ‘I hope for nothing, I fear nothing, I am free’. He is a hero I will be returning to often.
See below for an iconic film adaptation.
The Lord of the Rings Trilogy by JRR Tolkien
My first ever foray into fantasy. Starting with the grand-daddy of the genre. Read consecutively in the back half of 2023. A wonderful escape.
This needs little introduction - a misfit fellowship embark on a hopeless voyage for Mordor, where a hobbit is tasked with destroying the ring of power and bringing down the evil powers of Sauron. There was an incredible feeling of constant motion throughout the books (the first in particular) - towards an inevitable, but oftentimes uncertain, telos.
I was drawn to this book primarily out of appreciation for Tolkien’s genius in building languages and an imaginary world. I was rewarded greatly. The journey of the protagonists is incredibly moving. I felt a part it. I wore the darkness of Mordor in the final book and the frivolity of the Shire. Man is ultimately redeemed, under the rule of Aragorn - a compassionate warrior king absent from our contemporary culture. The world is saved by the nobility of two halflings. A tale of moral clarity, pitching Good against Evil. A simple message in a complex world.
This series is a modern mythological masterpiece that I will revisit. I recently watched the three extended edition films (having never watched Jackson’s films) and could not help but give it a standing ovation in our living room upon completion.
How about you?
What novel do you wish you could read for the first time again? Which do you look forward to reuniting with?
I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Wishing you joy,
Johnny
Non-exhaustive list of other stories that have left a lasting impression on me (in chronological order):
Fly Away Peter, David Malouf;
King Lear, Shakespeare;
Oedipus Rex, Sophocles;
In the Name of the Rose, Umberto Ecco;
Generals Die in Bed, Charles Yale Harrison;
Fiesta! (The Sun Also Rises), The Old Man and the Sea, Ernest Hemingway;
On the Road, Jack Kerouac;
Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde;
The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera
Augustus, John Williams.
By the Sea, Abdulrazak Gurnah
This idea was taken from Herman Hesse, captured in the tweet quote: ‘But then a time comes when one has to throw it all down and walk in the woods for a while, to consult with the weather, the flowers, the mists, and the winds, and find once more within oneself the changing standpoint from which one sees the world whole again’ https://x.com/InlibroV/status/1836050153104408640
Loved it