My Ten Favourite University Readings

This month of trudging through university finals has made me immensely grateful that I am able to study something I love; the only thing keeping me going at this point is that I actually want to write these papers and, despite longing for a break, I still find much joy in my courses and readings. As an English major, one of my favourite parts of the program has been delving into the wonderful texts that I never would’ve picked up on my own. I’d highly recommend checking these out if you have a little extra time over the holidays.

In making this list, I tried to provide a range of genres and authors. The course names are listed under the text title. All are ordered chronologically through my degree.

Hedwig and the Angry Inch (musical), by John Cameron Mitchell
Literature For Our Time

“And if you’ve got no other choice, you know you can follow my voice.”

My professor had been teaching this course for ten years when I took it. He said that this text was the only one that stayed on the syllabus every year. It’s a story of a transgendered woman’s transitions: between countries, between genders, and between relationships. It’s also a tale of disappointment, of loss, and of the need to rethink our initial definitions of love as we go through life — things we all recognize and relate to. Hedwig’s story is profoundly touching, and the music is fantastic. I still listen to “Wicked Little Town (Reprise)” on repeat sometimes.

A Room of One’s Own (essay), by Virginia Woolf
Canons and Canonicity

“This is an important book, the critic assumes, because it deals with war. This is an insignificant book because it deals with the feelings of women in a drawing-room. A scene in a battlefield is more important than a scene in a shop — everywhere and much more subtly the difference of values persists.”

I’ve only read this book once, but it changed the way I see the world. Woolf so aptly points out the subtle ways in which sexism is weaved into our society, specifically in relation to literature. Her analyses provide a whole different framework with which to consider art and history — all still relevant today. Also, because of her, so many previously ignored female writers — such as Aphra Behn and Anne Finch — are brought back into the spotlight and given the attention they deserve.

The Aeneid (epic poem), by Virgil
Forms of Representation

“Then I gave way
and, lifting my father, made for the mountains.”

Over 2000 years ago, Virgil was commissioned by Emperor Augustus to write an epic about the founding of Rome. Talk about A+ propaganda. Virgil takes us back to the Fall of Troy, describing the night of the Trojan Horse, then follows the hero Aeneas — son of Venus and ancestor to Remus and Romulus — as he escapes from the burning city, sails to Italy, and founds the little city in the Alban Hills. I wouldn’t say The Aeneid is better than the Iliad or Odyssey (it wouldn’t have been a balanced list to include all three), but it’s certainly just as powerful and enchanting as the Homeric epics in language and story.

Inferno (epic poem), by Dante Alighieri
Italian Authors in Translation

“My guide and I came on that hidden road
to make our way back into the bright world;
and with no care for any rest, we climbed–
he first, I following–until I saw,
through a round opening, some of those things
of beauty Heaven bears. It was from there
that we emerged, to see–once more–the stars.”

I haven’t been able to read all of The Divine Comedy, but Inferno was so captivating that I’m eager to finish the trilogy when I have more time. Dante constructs an incredible, detailed underworld, and it’s pretty cool to see figures of history and mythology pop up throughout this landscape — even if I don’t agree with the reasoning behind their punishments. It’s also interesting to truly understand where the “circles of hell” concept originates. The language of epic poetry does not disappoint in this poem; the final lines are possibly my favourite in all of literature.

The Woman Warrior (creative nonfiction memoir), by Maxine Hong Kingston
American Literature

“I learned to make my mind large, as the universe is large, so that there is room for paradoxes. Pearls are bone marrow; pearls come from oysters. The dragon lives in the sky, ocean, marshes, and mountains; and the mountains are also its cranium.”

A stunning example of creative nonfiction — this is the book I wish could’ve written. I could relate to the sentiments of East Asian-American cultural tension that Kingston expressed, but I loved the story most for its unique and artful blending of autobiography, myth, and folklore. Kingston’s writing is so unusual that it’s difficult to describe in any way that does it justice. My favourite section, “White Tigers,” is magical, yet simultaneously real; I’ve yet to encounter anything that comes close to this chapter in creative nonfiction.

In Cold Blood (nonfiction novel), by Truman Capote
Creative Non-Fiction

“At the time not a soul in sleeping Holcomb heard them–four shotgun blasts that, all told, ended six human lives.”

I felt that it would be unfair to put “everything Truman Capote wrote” on this list, so I settled for In Cold Blood, the revolutionary non-fiction novel, which Capote claims is the first of its kind. He drew inspiration for this story when reading a newspaper article about a quadruple murder. Although it’s written like a work of fiction, every bit is true and captivating. I finished the entire book within two days.

But seriously, Breakfast at Tiffany’s is well worth the read, and check out Capote’s short stories as well; “A Christmas Memory” is my favourite (and appropriate for this time).

About Love (short story), by Anton Chekhov
Love, Sex, and Death in Short Fiction

“I declared my love and realized, with a searing pain in my heart, how unnecessary, trivial and illusory everything that had stood in the way of our love had been. I understood that with love, if you start theorizing about it, you must have a nobler, more meaningful starting-point than mere happiness or unhappiness, sin or virtue, as they are commonly understood. Otherwise it’s best not to theorize at all.”

I’ve always preferred novels over short stories, and it was only when I read Chekhov that I learned to appreciate the beauty of this form. He manages to capture slices of reality in vividly honest ways. Each story is like the articulation of a feeling I didn’t know could be articulated — like the moment of sadness when we look at extraordinary beauty, or the evaporation of an important secret when it’s told and falls flat. When it comes to Chekhov, Lady with the Little Dog gets all the attention — and for good reason; I originally put that one on this list, but I actually prefer About Love. This story is about the regret of not pursuing a relationship, and no one can capture such a simple idea in all its complexities like Chekhov.

Simple Recipes (short story), by Madeleine Thien
Canadian Short Story

“If there were some recourse, I would take it.”

Madeleine Thien, who I’d never heard of before taking this class, is a writer I aspire to be. There’s so much subtlety in this story, and with a seemingly simple scene, she captures the entire experience of growing up in an immigrant household — the type of arguments that arise, the conflicting emotions that surface with a single dish of fish, the heartbreakingly complicated love between a parent and child. She does so skillfully, never casting blame or judgement one way or another, making it all the more powerful. I’m very eager to read her new novel, Do Not Say We Have Nothing, over the summer break.

Code Name Verity (YA novel), by Elizabeth E. Wein
Children’s Literature

“She came home by way of Blackstone Edge above the old Roman road to avoid the smoke haze over Manchester, and landed back at Oakway, sobbing with anguish and love; love, or her island home that she’d seen whole and fragile from the air in the space of an afternoon, from coast to coast, holding its breath in a glass lens of summer and sunlight. All about to be swallowed in nights of flame and blackout.”

This book was so dark that it made me question where the limits of children’s literature stand. Set in 1943 Nazi-occupied France, the story is gripping and beautifully told. It does not hold back with explicit scenes of torture or death — and yet still managed to make me laugh out loud at several moments, courtesy of the stellar characterization. To anyone who believes that Young Adult fiction is in any way inferior to Adult novels, I dare you to read this book.

American Born Chinese (graphic novel), by Gene Luen Yang
Advanced Studies in American and Transnational Children’s Literature

“I would have saved myself from five hundred years’ imprisonment beneath a mountain of rock had I only realized how good it is to be a monkey.”

This book is the single graphic novel that I have ever managed to finish, let alone thoroughly enjoy. I picked it up at midnight one night to wind down before sleep, and ended up finishing the whole thing in one go — though to be fair, it didn’t take that long. The next morning, I gave the book to my thirteen-year-old brother who loved it. Honest, relatable, and absolutely hilarious, the story will definitely speak to many East Asian immigrants — and perhaps to all immigrants and first generations — who understand the intense struggle of trying to fit in and learning to embrace one’s cultural identity.