What kind of books get you up in the morning? Which novels do you keep beside the milk and sugar? Is it a hearty tome of Greek mythology? Or do you favor the zingy taste of a NYTimes Best Seller with your eggs?
When I was younger I used to be a real book-worm. In a 2007 elementary school poll of 30 pre-pubescent kids I was voted the biggest book-worm of them all. Imagine a bespectacled child who opted out of swinging on monkey bars in order to ride intergalactic space ships, and returned to Earth in time for fourth period. Who needs ‘chasey’ or ‘tag’ when you have horcruxes and hallows? Yes, that kid was me.
Mind you this was a time before digital bookstores and Amazon Kindles. If you wanted to read a book you either had to buy it or go to the library. My brother and I used to come home from our local establishment lugging a literal gym bag. No kidding. Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, Twilight…name a young-adult franchise that I haven’t used as a dumbbell.
The other night I got dinner with my friend Joseph. We went to high school together and since graduating, Ol’ Joe has earned his engineering degree, rents his own one-bedroom flat, and works in a high-paying position for the government. He’s one of those people doing the adulting thing so well that it makes the rest of us look like we’re in diapers.
After our main course, an overly indulgent Pad Thai, we talk about what we’ve been up to. Eventually we get onto the topic of books.
“It’s called The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. An eye-opening piece about the struggles of gender roles. I think you’d like it. What are you reading Leon?”
“I’m re-reading the Harry Potter series again. Just finished the Chamber of Secrets…”
Even on our choice of books I was lagging behind. My friend was bettering his mind with novels that held up a mirror to society. Meanwhile I was attempting to memorize the names of Death Eaters…
The next day I set aside my ego and returned to the library. Alas. After so many years it still has that dusty, vinegary smell. Only this time I turn away from the cosy aisles of youth fiction, and step towards the winding rows of adult literature. “I know what you’ve come for,” they taunt me. “Proceed at your own peril.”
I pass shelves filled with stern two-word titles like Pride and Prejudice and Crime and Punishment. Jeez. Could you get any more cheerful? Is this what adulting meant? To voluntarily subject yourself to existential boredom? Finally I find the book that Joe was reading. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath.
I go home and get settled for some serious reading. The book begins during the main character’s summer internship. She’s in New York. That doesn’t sound too bad. New York is an exciting place after all. She goes on to describe her colleagues…the absurdity of urbanity, the double standards of the publishing industry, the loneliness of — boring! Where are the wizards? The death games? The interspecies love triangles?
How did Joe get through this? How do millions of adults all across the world, read stories that take place in such a bleak reality? Stories that eschew the decadent coatings of sugary fantasy and candied plot devices, for bitter political messages and musings on the status quo.
But I made a promise to myself. I’m taking this adulting thing seriously and that meant finishing the book. A few weeks later I had done it. I’d forced myself to read a chapter a day. By the end I felt accomplishment. Not the same kind of high, achieved through wizarding battles. This was more humble. I had stepped into someone else’s shoes and saw the world through their eyes in a way that was different to my own. Imbued with practical lessons, I had come away with a better understanding of others.
I guess that’s part of being an adult. Forcing yourself to do things that don’t satisfy you in the moment but will be rewarding in the end. Like this blog for instance. Writing a new post each day is no picnic, but the sense of satisfaction at the end spurs me on. I’ll still read children’s books and my copies of Harry Potter await me. But consider adding a side of Joyce with your next plate of scrambled eggs. You might just enjoy it.
Daily Adulting is a self-help humor blog written by Leon Wu. He documents his thoughts and experiences about growing up, while taking a break from life and moving back in with his parents. Subscribe to follow his (hopefully) uplifting journey.
