daniel

Daniel Ridge is the Director of Advertising and Promotion for the Academic and Library Marketing department. He can be spotted at the hippest playgrounds throughout Williamsburg.

 

 

 

 

 

power

The Power and the Glory, by Graham Greene

There are few writers whose books I enjoy starting quite as much as Graham Greene. His writing is crisp, cinematic, and hooks one from the outset. His output was fairly staggering and covered quite a range, but The Power and the Glory is generally considered his masterpiece, and rightly so. A whisky priest, a fanatical police lieutenant, a fanged mestizo, a setting worthy of Orson Welles, and a narrative that never sags—with an insightful introduction by John Updike to boot. Sign me up.

 

 

 

fairy

Fairy Tales from the Brothers Grimm, by Philip Pullman

This collection of Pullman’s beautifully rendered retellings of the Grimms’ classic tales is truly wonderful—full of wonders—and has become a bedtime-story standby in my household. Reader beware: even tales with innocent titles such as The Goose-Girl can lead to some awkward questions from 4-year-olds about how a decapitated horse’s head could talk and whether being rolled to death in a nail-studded barrel is really a fitting punishment for any crime.

 

 

 

crime

Crime and Punishment, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

And speaking of crime and punishment, Dostoyevsky’s novel of that name is one of my all-time favorites. Yes, it’s chock-full of big questions about justice, morality, and human nature, but what sticks with me is the vivid depiction of a sweltering, fetid, feverish Saint Petersburg in the days leading up to Raskolnikov’s foul deed. Anyone who has lived through an August heat-wave in New York City with no A/C, a job that doesn’t pay the bills, and a neighbor who blasts Seal’s 1991 hit “Crazy” every morning at 6:30 a.m. will know why Raskolnikov started thinking about that axe.

 

 

new york stories

The New York Stories, by John O’Hara

As a New Yorker, reading stories from the city’s past is much like thumbing through childhood pictures of your lover (who may be losing interest in you). Reading John O’Hara’s The New York Stories is like finding out that all those birthdays, baths, and Christmas mornings were shot by Annie Leibovitz. Great characters and razor-sharp dialogue set amid streets and buildings that time has certainly changed, but still spark a flutter of recognition. And I love the cover.

 

 

 

metamorphosis

The Metamorphosis and Other Stories, by Franz Kafka

Kafka is great. If this is news to you, read this book immediately. If you already know this, then you know these stories are well worth reading again. I still think of “The Penal Colony” every time I hear the word harrowing.

 

 

 

 

 

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walker

Alan Walker is the Director of Academic and Library Marketing and Sales for Penguin. He can also be found on occasion reading Penguin Classics in alphabetical order for his Penguin Classics Marathon.

 

 

 

ofhuman

Of Human Bondage, by W. Somerset Maugham 

W. Somerset Maugham’s masterpiece is my favorite novel, and I recommend it to everyone. It follows the life of Philip Carey at the beginning of the twentieth century. Born with a club foot and orphaned at a young age, Philip grows up with his dreary aunt and uncle, is packed off to boarding school in Germany, attempts to become an artist in Paris, and then returns to England to try his luck at medicine and various other careers. During that time he falls for Mildred, a waitress beneath his station, in what turns into a mutually destructive relationship (to say the least!). Maugham’s novel stands the test of time and is unique in how it makes us realize how much alike we are to those who came before us, in our hopes, ambitions, passions and most especially our deepest flaws. Three film adaptations have never come close to doing the novel justice, never capturing the heart and humor of the book. It would make a great HBO or BBC mini-series if done properly! (Michael Fassbender as Philip maybe?)

ageofinnocence

The Age of Innocence, by Edith Wharton

Wharton’s novel of the 1870s New York aristocracy is right up there as my all-time favorite read. Newland Archer’s tortured affair with the scandalized divorcee Countess Olenska set against the rigid morals of upper class society is the stuff of literary magic. How Wharton gets so deep into the very soul of Newland’s mind and heart is uncanny. If you’ve ever lived a lie for even a moment Newland is your man! The famous scene when our hero (or anti-hero?) sees Ellen (the Countess) from afar, and decides to go to her if she turns to him is one of the most heartbreaking scenes you’ll ever find in a book.

 

 

ethan

Ethan Frome, by Edith Wharton

Wharton’s novels were mostly about high society New Yorkers, like The Age of Innocence, but she also wrote two books about the rural poor. The better known of these is Ethan Frome which takes place in a corner of Western Massachusetts and is one of literature’s great love stories. I read this when I was a teenager and plan to go back to it at some point to see how it reads a few years (OK, decades) later.  I admit a personal connection to this book as I too spent early years with friends and siblings sledding down the same steep Berkshire hills as Mattie and Ethan did in their fictional town of Starkfield. Luckily for me though, we did a better job of avoiding the trees.

 

 

a hero

A Hero of Our Time, by Mikhail Lermontov

Ah, the Russians. I think I could list any number of great Russian novels below in my top five black spine recommendations, but for the sake of brevity I have chosen one, which may not be as familiar as some from the long list of great 19th and 20th Century works, from Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Turgenev, Zamyatin, Chekhov, Bulgakov, Gogol, Pushkin, etc. That book is Mikhail Lermontov’s A Hero of Our Time starring the dark and moody Pechorin who delights in the misery and downfall of those around him. Pechorin is one of my favorite characters in all of literature, and towards the end of the short novel there is a hilarious dual scene that is worth the price of admission! For anyone interested there is a 1992 French film entitled Un Coeur in Hiver (A Heart in Winter) which is a loosely based modern adaptation of the novel starring Daniel Auteuil.

 

a room

A Room with a View, by E. M. Forster

Speaking of great film adaptations, my last recommendation is E.M. Forster’s A Room With a View.  It’s hard to read this book without picturing all the actors from the great 1985 Merchant/Ivory production reading their lines as you stroll through this very amusing novel, and that is mostly due to E.M. Forster’s brilliant dialogue which was taken practically verbatim from the book for the movie. To quote from my own Classics Marathon Read (link above) I guess I am a sucker for a novel about repressed upper class Brits at the turn of the 20th Century, especially when juxtaposed against the raw passion and beauty of Italy. If you are like me, whether you’ve seen the movie a hundred times or not, Forster’s novel will make you want to ask the great questions and maybe on a future trip to Florence plan a day trip to a nearby Fiesole hillside!

 

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Max Reid works in Penguin Books Editorial, where he can be found talking at length about how much he loves New York.

 

 

 

 

ceremony

Ceremony, by Leslie Marmon Silko

I first read Ceremony for a Native American Religion course my freshman year of college.  I expected bows and arrows and trips to the museum- I didn’t think for a second we might actually be talking about Native Americans today. Ceremony focuses on the loss of identity so many Native Americans have experienced in the 21st century, and shows better than anything else I’ve read that Native American culture is not just history.

 

 

 

we

We, by Yevgeny Zamyatin

As a citizen of the world I’m happy to report I had a healthy phase of dystopian fiction that sufficiently scared the hell out of me.  This one hits particularly hard – a nation built entirely of glass, allowing secret police to watch your every move. Yeah. 1984 and it’s many protégés find their way to most school reading lists, but if you haven’t read We, you’re missing out – Zamyatin was a dissident in the early Soviet Union, so he knows what he’s talking about.

 

 

 

chocolate

Charlie & The Chocolate Factory, by Roald Dahl 

You’re not going to find a bigger fan of the Gene Wilder / Mel Stuart film adaptation, but really, if you haven’t read Roald Dahl’s masterpiece (one of many, in my opinion) you’re missing out on a trip through a world even more vibrant than Technicolor could offer. Try as you might, Tim Burton, but there’s just no replicating Roald Dahl’s imagination.

 

 

 

 

whitenoise

White Noise, by Don DeLillo

After 100 pages of living with the Gladney family, you’re part of it too, whether you like it or not.  DeLillo is sneaky about it – you may not even realize you love these characters until things start to unravel, as they always do.  DeLillo looks behind the façade of the modern American family, and finds the fears we all share.

 

 

 

 

different

On Being Different, by Merle Miller

Clocking in at 96 pages (that’s with the introduction and afterword), this is one of the most eye opening and powerful books I’ve read.  Merle recounts his experience growing up homosexual in a world that wasn’t welcoming, to say the least.  It’s heartbreaking, and unsettling that some of what he recounts was happening on a large scale only a few short decades ago.  I’d love to see this on more high school reading lists.

 

 

 

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Anna

Anna Baldasty works as a copywriter in academic and library marketing, where she writes and designs promotional materials that get Penguin titles in the hands of professional readers: students, professors, and librarians.

 

 

 

 

frank

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley 

As horror fiction that works on multiple levels, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is easily one of my favorite classics. Only Shelley could deftly explore the anxieties of her age, from the limits of science to the advancement of feminism, while spinning a gothic page-turner that takes us from Lake Geneva to the frozen waters of the Arctic. The best part? A monster so vividly and humanly rendered that we sometimes forget to root against him.

 

 

 

ageofinnocence

The Age of Innocence, by Edith Wharton

What I love most about The Age of Innocence is not its discussion of duty versus passion, but its evocation of memory—of the desire to preserve experience, protecting it from the passage of time and the weight of reality. If that seems vague, it’s because I cannot say more without ruining the book’s final scene, which I think is one of the most perfect endings ever written. Read it!

 

 

 

 

home

The Home and the World, by Rabindranath Tagore 

Told from two perspectives in alternating chapters, this story of love and betrayal set against a backdrop of political upheaval in early 19th-century India places national drama in domestic terms, literally moving revolution inside the home. The result is a beautifully written character study, wherein every act, every word, and every emotion carries dire consequences. Yet despite the high-stakes set-up and overarching political framework, Tagore manages to tell the story as a quiet, intimate tragedy—a stunning accomplishment.

 

 

 

hedda

Hedda Gabler, by Henrik Ibsen

If your summer reading list is missing the fin de siècle Norwegian soap opera you were longing for, look no further than Hedda Gabler. This play has it all: an unraveling marriage, an unwanted pregnancy, a dissolute ex-lover, blackmail, alcoholism, and lots of snarky comments. Ibsen’s sympathetic portrayal of a woman trapped to the point of desperation by traditional female roles is remarkable, especially considering the play debuted in 1891.

 

 

 

odyssey

The Odyssey, by Homer

The Odyssey means more to me now, in my twenties, than it did when I first read it in English class as a high school freshman. Although I doubt The Odyssey has ever been marketed as coming-of-age fiction, in many ways Odysseus’s trials perfectly capture the highs and lows of growing older: he searches for adventure, tackles obstacles, and navigates an often disorienting environment. If a story written c. 700 BCE still feels relevant in 2014, it definitely earns a spot on this list.

 

 

 

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samraim

Sam Raim works in editorial for Penguin Books and Penguin Classics, where he advances his longtime goal of convincing everyone to read Saul Bellow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Henderson the Rain King

Henderson the Rain King, by Saul Bellow

One of my favorite parts of working in Penguin Classics is having a row of Saul Bellow novels right above my desk. Bellow’s characters go through struggles relevant to us all and I’ve found his work to be a constant companion regardless of where my life has taken me. I’ll confess that my favorites are Herzog and Collected Stories, but Henderson has a special worth to me as the first Bellow I ever encountered. It’s full of his deeply profound and hilarious (yes, Bellow is funny!) musings on the human condition and I think it makes a perfect starting point for his work.

 

 

On Reading The Grapes of Wrath

On Reading the Grapes of Wrath, by Susan Shillinglaw

I love short, thoughtful books on big classics, like Nathaniel Philbrick’s Why Read Moby-Dick? So in the months leading up to the 75th anniversary of The Grapes of Wrath, I devoured Susan Shillinglaw’s concise study of Steinbeck’s classic. It’s a delight to climb into Professor Shillinglaw’s jalopy and let her guide us along the journey taken by both the Joads and John Steinbeck.

 

 

 

 

Dubliners

Dubliners, by James Joyce

Anniversaries are perfect opportunities and excuses to revisit books we haven’t read in far too long. I recently reread Joyce’s short story collection for its hundredth anniversary and found myself amazed by the capacity of its pivotal moments to move me just as strongly they did upon my first reading. The little boy staring up into the darkness at the end of “Araby,” the tragic inability of Eveline to follow her lover, and of course the snow falling “upon all the living and the dead”—these are the literary moments that have stayed with me like few others.

 

 

 

Book of First World War Poetry 2

The Penguin Book of First World War Poetry

2014 marks the centennial of the Great War (last anniversary, I promise!) so I’ve been digging back through the incredible literary output that resulted from what Wilfred Owen called “the pity of war.” The diverse poems in this collection — such horror so masterfully documented — are astonishing. It’s not only great war poetry, but it’s also some of the 20th century’s best poetry. Owen and Sassoon are of course household names, but Isaac Rosenberg and Edward Thomas are two of my favorites. In fact, Thomas’s “Rain” may be my favorite WWI poem.

 

 

 

Madame Bovary

Madame Bovary (translated by Lydia Davis), by Gustave Flaubert

“One had to discount, he thought, exaggerated speeches that concealed commonplace affections; as if the fullness of the soul did not sometimes overflow in the emptiest of metaphors, since none of us can ever express the exact measure of our needs, or our ideas, or our sorrows, and human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we beat out tunes for bears to dance to, when we long to inspire pity in the stars.” It shouldn’t take much more than that to convince you that it’s time to read Lydia Davis’s translation of Flaubert.

 

 

The Iliad

The Iliad (translated by Robert Fagles), by Homer

I like to think that the Iliad vs. Odyssey debate is a bit like the literary version of Beatles vs. Stones. Everyone has a side to take and though I love Odysseus’s journey, I can’t help finding myself drawn always to the epic scale of The Iliad. I’ve read this in numerous translations but my money’s on Fagles every time. No one else succeeds as he does in capturing the atmosphere and feeling of the Trojan War, the sheer grandeur of gods and men at battle. By this point, my copy looks as if it’s been through a war of its own.

 

 

 

Jacob's Room

Jacob’s Room, by Virginia Woolf

I’d be remiss if I didn’t end this with my favorite author. Jacob’s Room was Woolf’s attempt to do away with all the material trappings of the Edwardian novel (“no scaffolding; scarcely a brick to be seen,” she said). As the narrator and characters consider the eponymous Jacob, sifting through the people and places that made up his life, Woolf asks essential questions about how we know both the characters in our books and the people in our lives. The first of Woolf’s modernist efforts, Jacob’s Room perhaps lacks the elegance of later masterpieces, but that’s what keeps me coming back time and time again to search through those cracks for signs of Jacob.

 

 

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Elda

Elda Rotor is the Associate Publisher and Editorial Director for Penguin Classics.  When she’s not overseeing the US Classics editorial program, she’s helping you memorize Yeats on your smartphone.

 

 

 

Five Children and It, by E. Nesbit

Five Children and It, by E. Nesbit

If you were granted a wish that lasted through sunset, what would you wish for?  A timeless and tempting proposition here, played out in Nesbit’s charming story of five siblings and the adventure and chaos that ensues. The Penguin Classics Drop Cap edition with Jessica Hische’s whimsical sand-fairy N casts a spell on any reader.

 

 

 

 

The Haunting of Hill House, by Shirley Jackson

The Haunting of Hill House, by Shirley Jackson

For a proper spooky tale, you can’t go wrong with Jackson. This is best-read in bed with a flashlight in a big old house. The creakier, the better.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Persuasion, by Jane Austen

Persuasion, by Jane Austen

It’s true what they say about reading classics at different ages and the changes in one’s reading experience.  Persuasion is one of my favorite Austens, with its deep reflection on love, longing and loss. All I can say is: we should all get back to letter-writing.

 

 

 

 

 

The Portable Thoreau, by Henry David Thoreau

Portable Thoreau                

While we await the new Portable Emerson edited by Jeff Cramer later this year, we can dip into its perfect Portable companion for the writings of Thoreau, who is probably the #1 most mentioned author that inspires Classics intern interviewees.  Walden & Co. continue to speak to the post-grad set and the rest of us.

 

 

 

 

The Penguin Anthology of Twentieth-Century American Poetry

The Penguin Anthology of 20th Century American Poetry

Aside from the Penguin Classics Annotated Listing, this is the book I refer to most frequently and from which I gain so much. Edited by Rita Dove, these are the contemporary voices of America, with poems as diverse, dynamic, explosive, energized, meditative, haunting, and beautiful as our lives can be.

 

 

 

 

An Organizer's Tale, by Cesar Chavez

An Organizer’s Tale:  Speeches, by Cesar Chavez

After returning from Salinas, CA where we celebrated the 75th anniversary of The Grapes of Wrath at the Steinbeck Festival, I’m drawn to rereading Cesar Chavez’s historic speeches chronicling his civil rights leadership in support of fair wages, benefits, and humane working conditions for thousands of farm workers.  Powerful, relevant, and timely still.

 

 

 

 

Siddhartha, by Hermann Hesse

Siddhartha, by Hermann Hesse

These days, it’s all about mindfulness, and Siddhartha’s journey is a personal favorite of several Penguin colleagues. To be in this world gladly, each finds her own path, and this is a wonderful guide.

 

 

 

 

 

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The Grapes of Wrath 75th Anniversary Edition, by John Steinbeck

Today, 27 February, is the 112th birthday of the great American writer John Steinbeck. Over the course of his long career, Steinbeck won the Pulitzer and Nobel prizes and wrote some of the country’s most essential works taught in schools and read by millions.

April 2014 marks the 75th anniversary of the first Viking hardcover publication of Steinbeck’s crowning literary achievement. First published in 1939, Steinbeck’s Pulitzer Prize–winning epic of the Great Depression chronicles the Dust Bowl migration of the 1930s, telling the story of the Joads, an Oklahoma farm family driven from their homestead and forced to travel west to the promised land of California.

 

 

The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck

Elda Rotor, Editorial Director for Penguin Classics, on THE GRAPES OF WRATH:

“There are five layers in this book, a reader will find as many as he can and he won’t find more than he has in himself.” This is how Steinbeck described his novel, a blunt challenge to the reader, and it’s a line that I think about often when it comes to how we encounter classics such as The Grapes of Wrath. Those layers are both very personal and yet universal, and in my experience, when the intersections and the layers become clear, for instance, in scenes of Ma fighting to maintain her family’s dignity as their welfare worsens, and in her exchanges with her daughter Rose of Sharon, it shakes you to your foundation. The Grapes of Wrath demands your slow and thoughtful read and you’ll be grateful for discovering those layers and what Steinbeck’s tremendous work provides.

WORKING DAYS by John Steinbeck

The journal, like the novel it chronicles, tells a tale of dramatic proportions—of dogged determination and inspiration, yet also of paranoia, self-doubt, and obstacles. It records in intimate detail the conception and genesis of The Grapes of Wrath and its huge though controversial success. It is a unique and penetrating portrait of an emblematic American writer creating an essential American masterpiece.

East of Eden, by John Steinbeck

Ryan Murphy, Marketing Assistant for Penguin Books, on EAST OF EDEN:

To me there is no more enduring scene in John Steinbeck’s work than that of East of Eden’s Sam, Adam and Lee discussing, with sincerity and gravity, the meaning of the Cain and Abel story. Deep in this incredibly rich novel, the simplest of elements—a single Hebrew word, timshel, “thou mayest”—becomes the pivot upon which the ethical heart of the narrative turns. In the context of Steinbeck’s messy and brutal world, such humble concepts or acts—like Rose of Sharon’s selfless offering at the close of The Grapes of Wrath or the quiet small-town war resistance of The Moon Is Down—often have the deepest repercussions. (include book cover)

 

THE WAYWARD BUS by John Steinbeck

In his first novel to follow the publication of his enormous success, The Grapes of Wrath, Steinbeck’s vision comes wonderfully to life in this imaginative and unsentimental chronicle of a bus traveling California’s back roads, transporting the lost and the lonely, the good and the greedy, the stupid and the scheming, the beautiful and the vicious away from their shattered dreams and, possibly, toward the promise of the future.

BOMBS AWAY by John Steinbeck

A magnificent volume of short novels and an essential World War II report from one of America’s great twentieth-century writers. “This book is dedicated . . . to the men who have gone through the hard and rigid training of members of a bomber crew and who have gone away to defend the nation.” –John Steinbeck

Of Mice and Men and The Moon Is Down, by John Steinbeck

OF MICE AND MEN AND THE MOON IS DOWN by John Steinbeck

Of Mice and Men represents an experiment in form, as Steinbeck put it, “a kind of playable novel, written in novel form but so scened and set that it can be played as it stands.” The Moon Is Down uncovers profound, often unsettling truths about war and human nature. It tells the story of a peaceable town taken by enemy troops, and had an extraordinary impact as Allied propaganda in Nazi-occupied Europe. (include book cover)

 

 

 

More Books from Nobel Prize winner John Steinbeck include:

THE PASTURES OF HEAVEN

THE LONG VALLEY

TORTILLA FLAT

IN DUBIOUS BATTLE


“Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically.” This audacious declaration begins D. H. Lawrence’s once-banned Lady Chatterley’s Lover. Some influential novels do not declare their intentions to us from their first words. Take James Joyce’s opening on its own: “Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.” Surely, Buck arrives into our lives with great pomp and humor, but these words alone cannot reveal the ever-broadening cultural, artistic, and legal impact that Ulysses would have. Lawrence, however, is not so timid at the starting line. He opens with a grandiose statement, the kind destined to be emblazoned on t-shirts and scribbled down in the notebooks of adoring readers for years to come. Lawrence was, of course, speaking about the aftermath of the Great War, but the continually tragic face of progress renders his overture endlessly present and universal.

Lawrence’s opening words make a fitting call to action for Banned Books Week. Books have been banned as long as there have been books: for violating taboos, for supposed libel, for encouraging new ways of thinking, for violating prevailing political and religious opinions, and sometimes for almost nothing at all. Black Beauty was once banned in South Africa simply for having the words “black” and “beauty” together in the title. And yet it would be mistaken, in our more enlightened age, to see recent advances for civil rights and a perpetually more open conversation about taboo issues in the media as reasons to suspect that book-banning is no longer a key issue. Like viewing a one-year rise in polar ice quantity as reason to deny global warming, this myopic viewpoint is harmful. Just weeks ago, rather than celebrating the fact that one of its native daughters is undoubtedly among our greatest living writers, an Ohio school board sought to ban Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye. And all this means that Banned Books Week is as important as ever. Lawrence’s words continue to apply: “It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles.”

It’s no secret that at Penguin, we’re proud of our history with banned books. In 1960, Penguin was prosecuted for publishing Lady Chatterley’s Lover in the famous trial, R v Penguin Books Ltd. Like United States v One Book Ulysses before it, which freely allowed the publication of Joyce’s novel in America, the Lawrence trial was a landmark event for the liberalization of publishing and an important step in fighting book banning. That fight continues, and Penguin is thrilled to be on its front lines. This year, three of the ten books listed as the most challenged books in 2012 are Penguin publications: Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner, John Green’s Looking for Alaska, and Jay Asher’s Thirteen Reasons Why. No one here is happy to see those books banned, but we are happy to continue supporting and promoting the valuable work of these authors. If you haven’t read them already, take a look at those books and see why it’s so important that students and library-goers retain access to them.

If you’re looking for something less modern, nowhere is the banner of Banned Books Week held higher than at Penguin Classics. The Classics library holds a cornucopia of banned literary treasures, as the Classics editorial team spotlighted last year on their Tumblr. This year, throughout the week that Tumblr will feature posts on banned writers, especially those outside of the Western canon like the great (and banned) Kenyan writer Ngugi wa Thiong’o.

Read a banned book this week to celebrate your right to do so. It’s not the Great War, but it is a great war to be fighting. In the words of Lawrence, “We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.”

-Sam Raim, Editorial Assistant, Penguin Classics


the_neverending_story_michael_endeOne week ago today, I was sitting in a crowd with hundreds of other people, gathered in McCarren Park Williamsburg, Brooklyn on a beautiful clear night, to watch the last SummerScreen movie of the season. Not just because I love watching movies outside in the summer, but because the audience voted online for the final film, The Neverending Story.

I danced and sang to the theme song for the movie, I shouted “Falcor!”, the name of the giant luckdragon when he made his first appearance, I cheered when Atreyu made it past the Southern Oracle, got slightly teary eyed when Atreyu’s horse Artex submits himself to the Swamp of Sadness, was on edge when Bastian couldn’t see that he was the only one who could save Fantasia, and smiled when he did.

And while the movie may be a bit different from the book, I was introduced to the movie first when I saw it in a theater when I was nine years old. I don’t remember going to the actual theater, but I do remember when my mother bought me the book, which was black and had the AURYN, the lemniscate symbol with two serpents devouring each other. Bastian wrapped himself up in musty blankets and read his copy of the The Neverending Story in a chilly, dark attic, the pages illuminated by candle light. I used a crochet afghan that my mother made me and opted for a flashlight.

neverending_story_childhood_bookjpgSome books make us nostalgic about our childhood. They remind us of a time when life seemed less chaotic—when our priorities for the day involved things like daydreaming and reading a good book—and help reinforce the importance of the power of imagination. Bastian reads The Neverending Story, but becomes part of it as well.

‘I wonder,’ he said to himself, ‘what’s in a book while it’s closed. Oh, I know it’s full of letters printed on paper, but all the same, something must be happening, because as soon as I open it, there’s a whole story with people I don’t know yet and all kinds of adventures and deeds and battles. And sometimes there are storms at sea, or it takes you to strange cities and countries. All those things are somehow shut up in a book. Of course you have to read it to find out. But it’s already there, that’s the funny thing. I wish I knew how it could be.’

Suddenly an almost festive mood came over him.

He settled himself, picked up the book, opened it to the first page, and began to read

The Neverending Story.

There’s a cycle here. I can’t even count the times I have seen the movie, but after seeing it on the large screen again, I decided to re-read the book. Sadly, I don’t have my original copy anymore, but I borrowed a friend’s last summer when I discovered it on his childhood bookshelf at his summer beach house. Dave, I’ll give you your book back after I’m done. Promise.