I'm not sure what my first exposure to the book "War & Peace" actually was. There's no way to be certain, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it was likely a Bugs Bunny cartoon. (I'm not sure how it would have happened - maybe the titular rabbit pulls the epic tome out of nowhere to bash the genially clueless Elmer Fudd over the head or perhaps Daffy Duck reads the book to put another character to sleep. It just seems like there was a "War & Peace" reference in there somewhere that, as a child, I was incapable of understanding.)
Whatever the exposure might have been, I remember growing up treating "War & Peace" with a sort of quiet reference. It was not a book - it was an
institution. It was not something to be read and digested - it was something to be
tamed and
subjugated. It was Mount Everest and I was a kid from America that had no dreams or aspirations to even see it, let alone attempt to scale it.
In high school, I became interested in literature, thanks in large part to my fantastic English teachers. Still, if a book didn't interest me, it got shuffled to the side and remained unread. Now, as a high school teacher, I look back on all the books I didn't read completely and feel a great swell of pity for the foolish person I once was to not take advantage of those opportunities.
College hit like a ton of bricks. Very little time to read anything that wasn't assigned for a class and, as a Religion & Philosophy major, there was little time for literature. I recall reading two literary texts for my own amusement or personal edification in the entirety of my collegiate career - "
The Scarlet Pimpernel" by
Baroness Emma Orczy and "
Night" by
Elie Wiesel. Everything else was for class.
If college succeeded in anything, it seemed to quell my love of literature. Granted, I was able to read plays for my Theater minor that were quite enjoyable - even a few that I hadn't enjoyed when I'd read them in high school. (This, I consider a major accomplishment!) Upon my college graduation, I began to get wistful for the days when I was able to read and read and read and
enjoy what I was reading for more than the academic stimulation. In short, I wanted to
appreciate literature again!
The summer after I graduated from college, I read as much as possible. I read the entirety of
Neil Gaiman's work that had been published up to that point (culminating in the reading of "
Anansi Boys" which came out later that year) and "
Being There," a wonderful satire that was turned into a movie with the always-amazing
Peter Sellers. Thus, my love of reading was re-energized.
As I began attempting to find gainful employment, my love of reading began to slacken once again. It was at this point that I found myself in the retail world at a bookstore of some repute. (I actually type this entry from one of their stores presently.) One night, while putting away stray books after closing, I found myself in the 'T' section of Literature, staring at a shelf full of the aforementioned massive epic "War & Peace." Working at a bookstore did recharge my love for reading somewhat. I was inspired to read "
In Cold Blood," but beyond that, I was reading what I refer to as 'fictional fluff' - writing that, while popular now, lacks meaning and substance such that one can gain from a true literary work. This work, written by authors like James Patterson and Clive Cussler, strikes me as the fast food of the literary world. (Not that I have anything against those authors, mind you - I just don't see a lot of substance there.) This needs to be said to show you what lens I was viewing Tolstoy's tremendous tome through.
I looked at "War & Peace" sitting on the shelf and I thought to myself,
"Self, life is short and there are a lot of books worthy of and deserving of your time and attention. In order to make time for those books, books like this one must be abandoned." And, with that, my decision was made. I would never read "War & Peace." I was simply too busy. I was simply too cool. In truth, I was simply too foolish.
Once I began teaching high school, my fellow teachers really began to raise the bar. Within a few short months, I found myself immersed in the works of
Plotinus and
Marcus Aurelius and, within a couple of years, found myself engrossed in books like "
The Stranger" or "
East of Eden" (which is, I suppose, deserving of a post itself).
Earlier this year (last school year, technically), my department head - perhaps the person
most responsible for my current endeavor - challenged me to read ten books in 2010. I accepted and, though I do not think I'm going to be able to reach the mark, his tenacity in reading spurred me on. One of the books he chose was Tolstoy's "War & Peace." I remember wrinkling my brow and asking why he would ever want to read that.
"It's one of my wife's favorites," he said. "Plus, I want to see what the big deal is about." I shrugged, wished him good luck and godspeed, and didn't think much else about it... until he started talking about it
nonstop.
"I want to
be Russian!" he said to me one day while we were each discussing what we were reading. "I'm completely lost in Tolstoy's world! I find myself impatiently waiting to get
back there!"
I was intrigued. The only book that had ever really done that for me was "
A Tale of Two Cities," which I had not read since high school. The more he began talking about it, the more I began thinking - I really ought to read "War & Peace."
"But what about your promise?" Self asked, and I knew he had a point. I
had promised never to read it, to devote my time reading to other pursuits that were more manageable, more attainable.
I countered Self with this thought:
"But what if I gave myself time? Time to do it properly." Self and I ruminated on this idea before we (I?) agreed that accountability would be needed. I would need help achieving the goal.
That's where this blog comes in.
I am devoting 2011 to the reading of Tolstoy's "War & Peace." It is my literary Everest... except now, rather than responding like the inquirer of the question of 'why climb?', I am
George Mallory, responding fearlessly, "Because it's there!"
I recognize that this idea is probably not highly original and I can't say that I'm really expecting fame or fortune or a book/movie deal like some bloggers. I know I'm not the first to chronicle my reading of a massive piece of literature.
A.J. Jacobs has already read much more than I will in a year by reading through the Encyclopedia Britannica in a year and then the Bible in a matter of days. (Check it all out in his books, "
The Know-It-All" and "
The Year of Living Biblically.") I know I'm not the first person to blog about their journey through a book either.
Julie Powell is known the world over for her blog that spawned two books and a movie after she spent a year working her way through
Julia Child's "
Mastering the Art of French Cooking." (If you've not
read or
seen "Julie & Julia," then you probably have no idea what I'm talking about.)
All that being said, I'm doing this (a.) to remain accountable to someone, even if it's just myself typing out into the vast ethereal nothing of the Internet and (b.) to have some sort of record that I've done the thing, in the event that I actually finish (as I have a grand habit of leaving big tasks half-finished, if that). Consider this blog my flag stuck in the top of Everest, available for anyone who may want to see it.
