“The reading of all good books is like conversation with the finest (people) of the past centuries.” — Descartes
Reading has always been a major part of my life, similar to a clingy friend. Whenever I have any free time, reading was always the least painful activity to do, at least, compared to the other activities such as studying or brain-numbing maths problems. As such, I end up tearing through an unhealthy number of books, reading between 1 to 3 or 4 books per week, which is pretty extra, even to my parents own hyperbolic standards. So, understandably, when my English teacher informed the class that we had to do a task based on 6 books we have read this year, I was laughing.
“6 books!” I thought to myself, “I’ve already read at least 8, and we have barely started term 1!”
As I was soon to learn, this task was going to be much harder than expected.
Suspiciously hard.
See, I am under the firm belief that I suffer from the rare and self-made condition I have penned Book Inundation. This debilitating disease is when one manages to read so much, that the impact of these works of literature only stay with the person for a few days, until they read another book, with similarly weighty themes. Unfortunately, I have been diagnosed with this disease, and it is chronic. Constantly reading new books ensures that I never have enough time to appreciate the work. As such, I was in a predicament. Having read so many books meant I barely had any time to reflect before moving on the next world, whereupon I become immersed for the total of half a week.
Not entirely ideal, especially for a task reliant on memories from books read long ago.
But when I find myself reflecting on the books, I have read this year, the ones that stick out to me are the ones that teach me something. Books that show mistakes from the past, such as Maus or speculative fictions teaching about unsafe political practices such as 1984, The Circle and A Brave New World have all taught me something. It is these books that stick with you and me.
These books don’t have to be non-fiction as MAUS, by Art Spiegelman, is a journalistic graphic novel. It follows the author interviewing his father, Vladek about life as a Polish Jew during the holocaust. I found that this book made the holocaust seem more humane to me, less than just a large statistic. I always knew that the holocaust was wrong, I just didn’t feel the inhumanity. At least, before I read this book. MAUS, through its graphics, really represented the inhumane activities done by the Nazis. MAUS taught me how to feel the injustice in horrible events.
My parents often force me to read non-fiction books. The ones written by an author with a PhD writing about some obscure topic with dense writing and boggling equations. As a result, the very word ‘non-fiction’ strikes doom and terror into my soul. Chasing the Scream and Lost Connections by Johann Hari fixes that.
Johann Hari has a specific style that I notice while reading his books. He tells a story through anecdotes from a vast selection of people, each one with a unique story. He weaves facts through these life stories and after reading his books, I feel full, filled with important, and often taboo information about the topics of his books. His first book, Chasing The Scream brings the drug war to life, providing insight into one of the more murky depths of humanity,

dragging it into the light. He shines a torch to some of the deeply rooted myths and prejudices that are related to drugs and addicts. He shows how the chemical hooks in drugs are often not the major cause for addiction, but rather that abuse and trauma are. Stories from people such as Chino, a transexual man forced to deal drugs to survive, or Bud Osborn, responsible for the legalization of marijuana in Canada. This book teaches me about this taboo topic and shows me how to think more critically about the drug war, yet I still find myself with the same feelings I had before reading his book. Despite being reminded that addicts are still human beings who are most likely going through much pain and suffering, I still feel disgusted whenever I see them at Ringwood Station after a late-night debating competition.

Lost Connections takes a similar approach to Chasing the Scream, only this time Lost Connections deal with the problems regarding depression. Johann Hari debunks many myths surrounding depression, such as the efficacy of antidepressants. He also shows the real reasons behind depression. The common view on depression is that there is a low level of serotonin in the brain, so therefore, negative stimuli affect the depressed person worse. The view that Johann Hari presents, however, is that depression is caused by disconnection to various stimuli. It might be disconnection to meaningful work, values, other people etc. I found this book very interesting because many of the claims made simply relied upon common sense, yet the medical profession does not seem to be able to exercise some when it comes to depression.
These books have given me a guide to thinking about the taboo, and understanding that the status quo can often be incorrect, and sometimes these incorrect ideas can lead to disastrous consequences.
I read three dystopias last term, all similar, but each with a different type of discomforting aura that envelopes these texts.
1984, by George Orwell, was the first of these books. The follows Winston, one of the few dissenters of the Ingsoc party in Eurasia, based in a hellish dystopian world where observation is rife and black is white. This book was pretty boring though, with 10-page essays slapped in the middle of the book
quite unexpectedly, which, for me, messed up the tone and the pacing, especially as the suspense started to build up. Despite this, the book was still screamingly interesting, especially the idea of how the restriction of language can control the thoughts of a population. Ingsoc and Big Brother control the population through total surveillance, and it is only through the loss of scrutiny that revolt can occur. It reminds me of mega-companies such as Google and Facebook, or governments such as the Central Communist China Party. 1984 does not feel real to me, however. There are elements in 1984 that exist today, but the whole premise has never really arrived.
The Circle, by Dave Egger, takes the idea of 1984 and brings it into a modern context. A hyper-successful tech company, comparable to google, is nearing a 100% userbase. Privacy and secrecy is now, in many people’s eyes, theft. The Circle follows the same formula as 1984, with the same ending. Yet I see a dystopia the way The Circle portrays more than that of 1984. It just seems more plausible for a company to exercise extreme power over a government.
Some companies, such as Google, are already a good portion of the way to erasing all privacy within its userbase. Products such as the google home or Amazon Echo are already bringing microphones into our homes al a telescreen. It does not take a far stretch of the imagination to see how companies such as Microsoft, Google or Amazon can eliminate privacy. What scares me is that these companies take surveillance and makes it palatable to us. We don’t mind our data getting sold to advertisers if it means we get a good quality free service in return. The future depicted the future in a way that I honestly believe will happen in the next few decades. The Circle and 1984 gives me more awareness about the world, specifically, more awareness over privacy online and awareness in the political scenes, especially over fiascos such as Brexit, or the current political scene in China
Then comes Brave New World.
Honestly, this book confuses me. It is a dystopia, but it is hard to put your finger on why. The premise is that all the humans living in the society are genetically engineered and classically conditioned to always feel content and happy. Through strategies such as a drug called soma ensure that it is impossible to dissent. It reminds me of the philosophical adage about whether it is moral to lock ourselves in a machine to experience happiness without effort. Aldous Huxley crafts this seemingly perfect utopia, yet something is missing, a bit of humanity. The society just feels wrong. It’s hard to explain why, however, after all, everybody living in the society is happy, the only complainer is John the Savage and the reader. I learn a strange, and disheartening thing from this book.
To have a perfect utopia, you must lose your humanity. When I think this, I reject it, but it makes sense. A utopia relies on contentedness, and society with zero conflict, but it is our human nature to want better, to fight for more. Therefore, I have learned that a utopia is impossible to make while still keeping the humanity inside a society.
I suppose to be happy, we should not let ourselves think about the life that “could have been”.
All the books that have stuck with me throughout the year all teach me something, whether it be about totalitarian governments, the holocaust, the relationship between privacy and companies, the drug war or depression. Each book that I vividly remember has brilliant writing, but also allow me to grow from the experience. I left each story satisfied, content, during each step during my reading journey. It’s not necessarily the books that stick, but rather, the lessons they provide, the gifts they supply and the ideas they spread.
