Original Top Ten Tuesday Prompt: Ten Books I Enjoyed Recently (last yearish) That Weren’t My Typical Genre/Type of Book (or that were out of your comfort zone)
Revised Prompt Because I’m an Obnoxious Little Rebel: 5 books I loved even though they might not be the most intellectual reads (conquering my pride) and 5 books I loved even though they seem like stuffy old classics (conquering my prejudice).
1. Stephanie Perkins‘ Books
For heaven’s sake, it’s called Anna and the French Kiss! You can’t get more ridiculously superficial than that!
And they are. The books are tremendously superficial, monstrously cheesy. But they’re good. They feed the guilty pleasure monster lurking inside. They create the stomach happy-bubbles. They quiet the fairy-tale deprivation.
So who cares if it’s a book I probably wouldn’t read in public? (The books conquered my pride. However, it seems my dignity is still very much intact) As long as they make you happy, then so what?
STOP JUDGING ME.
2. Sophie Kinsella‘s Books
Yes, I love rom-coms. Yes, these are rom-coms in book form. Yes, I love it. No, I don’t care if you’re feeling the pretentious need to judge me. SORRY.
These are adorable. Intellectual? Pfft. Not even close. But they’re a good time. They’re good for the soul. So.
3. The To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before Duology by Jenny Han
Again…To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before? P. S. I Still Love You? The covers are lovely, but the titles implore me to only read the books at home.
In fact, the titles are why it took me so long to read the books.
Silly me! That’s what I get for being a
everything-judger title-judger. Yes, this book was cheesy. Yes, it was good anyway. But most importantly, it was more than superficiality. It had strong family themes surrounding the book, something I wouldn’t have realized if I hadn’t defeated my pride.
4. Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell
OKAY YES I WAS HESITANT AT THIS. It seemed, I don’t know, silly? Not meaningful? The point is, I’m a pretentious potato and this book seemed beneath me.
Moral of the story: I’m a blubbering idiot and have no idea what I’m talking about 89% of the time.
I loved it. I humbled myself and read it and I loved it. It was more than meaningful, it was beautiful. It was witty without being stupid, it was lyrical without being boring. It was so very real.
5. Just One Day by Gayle Forman
“So she goes with some random guy to Paris? Pfft. How typical. How unrealistic?” -Me before this book. I am currently slapping me before this book.
If terribly done, it would be typical and it would be unrealistic. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t because GAYLE FORMAN IS ONE OF THE BEST WRITERS ALIVE. I don’t know how she managed to take something so romance-based, yet turn it into something so much more than that. I can only compare it to Jane Austen’s writing.
6. Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery
My friend actually recommended this to me when I was a small child.
What I said in reply was: Oh sure! I’ll check it out of the library!
What I thought: Sounds OLD. And BORING.
SOMEONE KICK ME. Because Anne is my hero. Anne is everything.
7. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
I had to read this for school in 7th grade, and BOY WAS I UPSET ABOUT THAT. To ignorant, from-the-past Becca, this looked like the most boring, irrelevant book I could possibly be forced to read.
I was wrong.
I was so wrong.
This is magic. This is wondrous.
(I do indeed refuse to read Go Set a Watchman.)
8. The Secret Garden by France’s Hodgson Burnett
I was fury of a fifth grader, resolute in my decision to hate this book.
Here’s the thing, I’m not great at hating things. Especially when these things are books that intrigue and capture your heart, your mind, your everything.
This book is scrumptious.
9. The Adventures of Tom Saywer by Mark Twain
I knew it was going to be a boring little biography-style book of the perfect little boy. I just knew.
Well, it turns out I just knew wrong.
Tom Saywer is quite the scoundrel which was THRILLING to tiny-child-Becca. Of course, he became
my new role model an example of what not to be.
10. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Well would you look at that, the namesake for this post.
My prejudice for this one was actually not my fault. It was my sister who filled my poor, impressionable young mind with her groans while reading this masterpiece. I can take no blame!
This post has been immensely humbling. I shall never do anything like this ever again.
What books have humbled you? Don’t you hate/love it when they do that?