It's The End of the World As We Know It

Okay, so I may be being just a little bit melodramatic. The world itself is not coming to an end. But, in all complete honesty, life is about to change in a very permanent way. That's right, college is just around the corner. 5 days around the corner, as a matter of fact. Uh-huh. I move my entire life from Olathe to Lawrence (I know, I know, it's only a 20 minute drive if you follow all posted speed limits) in just 5 days. So, needless to say, I've been busy with packing and cleaning and saying good-bye. So,as is unfortunately natural in this given situation, the reading has fallen by the wayside. I haven't read a book since I finished Harry Potter (although I did read that one four times, so I guess you could say it took up a fair share of my time) although all of my class books have come in the mail and are now sitting in my sisters room, waiting to be read. I have recently decided that in the next 5 days, I will be re-reading The Great Gatsby by the great F. Scott and Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier. I was also hoping to pick up Fourth Comings by Megan Mcafferty before I left, as it is the fourth and last book in the fantastically teen angst Jessica Darling series (which, if you're ever in the need of a good yet easy book to swallow, I would most definately reccommend. Sloppy Firsts, Second Helpings, Charmed Thirds. In that order). Alas, a SEVERE lack of funds (thank you, $600 credit card bill) has left that as not exactly an option. But, even considering all these things, the hardest part of the past few weeks has been the sorting through and boxing up of the books I wish to take and the books I have to leave. Don't mock me, but I cried.



There are books that I have been surrounded by my entire life. Little Women. Les Miserables. Pride and Prejudice. There are some books recently acquired, but that feel like old friends. They are beautifully written and strikingly haunting. Roomates. How to Breathe Underwater. Perks of Being a Wallflower. There are some books that I feel compelled to take, those given classic nature, books that I feel no shelf is complete without. Jane Eyre. Wuthering Heights. Oliver Twist. And then there are books that I just love, for no reason other than I love them. They have been my friends, my companions. More so than any other books have ever been. They have seen my laugh, they have seen my cry, they have seen me become frustrated with their endings or enthralled with their characters. Those are the books who's pages have been torn. Who's covers have fallen off. Who's margins have been scribble in. Those are the books I suffer most to leave behind. Harry Potter. This Lullaby. The Things They Carried. On the Road. But which of these to take? I feel like they have all earned the right to come with me. But I can't take them all. So do I mix them? Take ones I haven't read yet, hoping to start a new love affair? Ones I've read hundreds of times, knowing how much comfort they've provided me in the past? Those were the kind of thoughts running through my head as a packed up the books that will go, leaving the ones I was forced to deem unworthy (not to hurt their feelings, as they are all fabulous books.) Which ones made the cut, you ask?

*Little Women
*America: A Readers Guide to Democracy Inaction
*Roomates
*Pride and Prejudice
*Perks of Being a Wallflower
*The Bible

There were others, but that is just a small sampling. There are about 15 books I'm taking, if not fewer, so it was quite a task, seeing as how I have over 150 books as of my last count. What can I say, after collecting them for 13 years, I've managed to come up with quite the little library. And now, on to the book discussion.

Okay. Harry Potter. I have to talk about it. I can't not. Harry Potter came out when I was 8. Ten years later, as I'm about to leave home and make some major life changes, Harry has set out with his best friends to save the world, and he comes out victorious. It was a very melancholy experience. Having read all six books again before the release of the 7th, I was struck with just how much Jo's writing style had improved in the years between Sorcerer's Stone and Deathly Hallows. She truly is a writer of her own making. She has, in my mind, earned her place along side Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. Though she writes modern-day novels for a modern-day audience, her style is strikingly beautiful, strikingly relative. And the novel itself was fantastically crafted. By the epilouge, there were no loose strings left to wrap up. Although I found the scene with Dumbledore and the crying baby to be a tad creepy and tedious, I was more than happy to see him make an appearance. I was wishing, however, that Sirius would have made another appearance (as more than just an apparition). I couldn't believe how touched I was at one of the final scenes, when Harry has realized what he must do and has slipped on his invisibility cloak, only to walk around and watch his friends, wishing he could tell them all goodbye. And I even liked the epilouge, which in any other novel I would have found entirely too sweet. I don't ususally don't like my novels to be wrapped up in nice little packages (with those little red bows) - it's too unlike life for my taste - I didn't mind it at all for this novel. A novel going on this long needed an ending with no loose ends, with no questions left. And the epilouge did that nicely. So, all in all, a perfect 10 all the way across the board, although it never could have been any different.

And now, lastly, why Fitzgerald and DuMarier, you ask? Two reasons, both of them drastically different. The Fitzgerald because, when I was required to read it in 11th grade, I didn't really like it (save your gasps, it happens, even to the best of us). Perhaps it was the teacher, perhaps it was because I didn't devote enough time to it, but I didn't see why it was the classic that so many people had proclaimed it to be. So I'm giving it this one last chance, one more final read, hoping that maybe this time I will see something that I missed the first time. The DuMarier, however, I am reading because I fell madly in love with it the first time I read it. I only had two weeks to read the book, analyze it, and write my final paper, so I know I didn't give the book the time it deserved. So that is what I intend to do now. The book was sweeplingly grandiose, hauntingly sad yet lovely at every turn. And the plot twist (which I won't ruin for those who haven't read it) was possibly the best I've ever seen. And so, in these last few days, I pursue both the loved and the lost.