Things I Learned from being a Book Geek

Having spent countless hours engulfed in well-leafed paperbacks, from the very first garishly shaded Ladybird Classics, to the American teenage dramatics of Sweet Valley High and the more mature reads of adult life, it’s fair to say that my perception has always been somewhat skewed by the ever-climatic experiences of a book geek.

For a teenager more familiar with the man-chasing antics of Austen’s Mrs Bennett than actual boys, or a ten year old with aspirations for a jolly-hockeysticks Mallory Towers-esque education rather than the local comprehensive, life for me was always going to be one wistfully guided by the books  that surrounded it. Life lessons aplenty poured forth from the novels that navigated my growing pains, first love and transitions into adulthood. Unfortunately for me, most of them turned out to be wildly inaccurate, and even bordering on the bizarre.

And so, in an elaborate attempt to procrastinate in the midst of dissertation writing, I’ve compiled a list of the things my (almost) 21 years as a self-confessed book geek have taught me. Some accurate life-lessons, some plain ridiculous twaddle, but all rewarding and entertaining in their own imperfect way.

What not to expect

The big loves are the best (but they don’t always work out)
Romeo and Juliet, Scarlett O’Hara and Rhett Butler, Cathy and Heathcliff. The very best knee-trembling, tear-jerking, hear-pounded loves in fiction come complete with passion, bodice ripping and proclamations of undying love. The great lovers of literature are destined to be together, bound by some instant and unrelenting force set to send the reader taking a sidelong glance at the less than romantic back-of-a-crowded-bar introduction with their own boyfriend with a little less gusto than before.

However, the real crux to these all-consuming roller-coaster rides of relationships is that they never really hold up. The dizzying highs are always countered by devastating lows, and the couples’ love lives are more tumultuous than Taylor Swift’s dating catalogue. With the majority of these affairs ending up in abandonment, misery, and- more often than not- death, Ben and Jerry’s and a nice rom-com with the boyfriend isn’t looking quite so staid now, is it?

It’s OK to have a few angsty teenage years...

Me, reliving my teenage Goth years...

 As any good lit geek or emo will tell you, the book business is not one for shirking around teenage angst. Giving generations of angry adolescents firing power for the hormone soaked years between 13 and 19, classic “The Catcher in the Rye” told us that it’s OK to mope around a bit in those tricky secondary school days. With “Perks of Being a Wallflower” taking a more modern slant, we all now know that finding yourself, sulking, and existential wonderings are an integral part of our teenage years, and should be treated as such.

...Or live the all-American teenage dream

...and pretending to be All-American.
Fancy-dress is a wonderful thing.

Spending my early teenage years engrossed by the go-get-‘em Babysitters Club, the summer camp adventures of Marcy Lewis, and the Princess Diaries’ dream of my Dad turning out to be the king of a small European country, the light literature of American teen fiction taught me that life was going to be a happy parade of s’mores, friendly communities, and the light tribulations of whether to let your boyfriend go to second-base (without having any idea what ‘second-base’ actually entailed.)

Although sadly inaccurate, it’s still nice to occasionally sink back into the delusional promises of the US teen scene, and pretend that my looming final hand-in is no more pressing than what I would wear if I had a Homecoming Dance.

 “Don’t have sex, because you will get pregnant and die”
Since sex sells, it’s always been a bit of a contention in literature. Whilst Chaucer indulged his bizarre tendency to turn sex into a never-ending opportunity to create apparently hilarious pranks, the Victorians warned us of the terrible consequences of enjoying a bit of rough and tumble. (Pretty much always resulting in death, if you’re interested.) And now with 50 Shades of Grey advocating a spanking paddle as the real key to all-over life fulfilment, and the ever-growing trend for giving classics saucy “mummy porn” make-overs, literature just can’t seem to make its mind up.

Something which books do never-endingly tell us, however, is that sex is a BIG DEAL, a veritable life-changer, and must be treated as such. Another valiant, and not entirely accurate, word from the world of books which has probably left many a teenager pretty terrified. Now where’s my copy of “Jane Eyre gets bare”?

Not everyone gets a happy ending
I’ll still never forget the sheer horror with which I laid down Birdsong the first time I read it aged 11. Deaths of wonderful characters, dizzying romances sunk into banality, and unexpected reconciliations, Faulk’s most famed novel is beautiful, yet uncompromising. And it certainly wasn’t the first I was to come across. The painful injustice in To Kill a Mockingbird, the bruising finality of Atonement, Dumbledore dying in Harry Potter...

Literature has an incredible power to reveal that the truth about life is that there really is no truth. It is characterised by stories without morals, questions without answers, and endings that are not happy. But it also teaches us about the beauty that lies behind it all, and that glinting possibility, that just perhaps, ours might be the happy ending that comes out of it.