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Question What book changed your life?

De Profundis by Oscar Wilde. It is a very long letter Wilde wrote to his ex-lover Alfred "Bosie" Douglas shortly before his release from prison.

Wilde was imprisoned after losing a libel action against Bosie's father, the Marquis of Queensbury. The Marquis thought Wilde had "corrupted" his son and - in a very ugly way - took it upon himself to "out" Wilde as a homosexual. Wilde tried to sue the Marquis for libel - and lost. Criminal charges and imprisonment followed ...

I first read De Profundis properly in 2009, after I had lost custody of my daughter.

I won't tell the story ... it would take too long. But briefly, fear of losing my daughter actually made me lose my daughter - after months of terrifying legal threats and Family Court hearings, I had an "acute stress reaction" and ended up on a mental ward for ten days. My daughter's father therefore got "interim custody" - for over two years.

The grief was brutal. It was physical pain. Like a claw sunk into my guts. I was literally writhing with anguish sometimes.

In the midst of this, I managed to bump into De Profundis. I am not sure how, because I was incapable of reading most of the time. But I had an old copy of Wilde's Complete Works, and I can remember how my breath was taken away as I read Wilde's account of how it felt to lose his two little sons:


I had lost my name, my position, my happiness, my freedom, my wealth. I was a prisoner and a pauper. But I still had my children left. Suddenly they were taken away from me by the law. It was a blow so appalling that I did not know what to do, so I flung myself on my knees, and bowed my head, and wept, and said, ' The body of a child is as the body of the Lord : I am not worthy of either.' That moment seemed to save me. I saw then that the only thing for me was to accept everything. Since then — curious as it will no doubt sound — I have been happier. It was of course my soul in its ultimate essence that I had reached. In many ways I had been its enemy, but I found it waiting for me as a friend.

This was only one of many passages that gave me such consolation and relief ...

- All trials are trials for one’s life, just as all sentences are sentences of death...

- [Sorrow] is a wound that bleeds when any hand but that of love touches it, and even then must bleed again, though not in pain. Where there is sorrow there is holy ground.

- Now it seems to me that love of some kind is the only possible explanation of the extraordinary amount of suffering that there is in the world. I cannot conceive of any other explanation. I am convinced that there is no other, and that if the world has indeed, as I have said, been built of sorrow, it has been built by the hands of love, because in no other way could the soul of man, for whom the world was made, reach the full stature of its perfection. Pleasure for the beautiful body, but pain for the beautiful soul.
 
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The doors of perception, heaven and hell, and brave new world all were pretty deep. All by huxley, I wouldn't say they changed my life though, just kind of opened my eyes like someone else had said
 
MrsGamp said:
De Profundis, by Oscar Wilde ... it didn't change my life - rather it saved my life.

I first read it properly in 2009, after I had lost custody of my daughter.

I won't tell the story ... it would take too long. But briefly, fear of losing my daughter actually made me lose my daughter - after months of terrifying legal threats and Family Court hearings, I had an "acute stress reaction" and ended up on a mental ward for ten days. My daughter's father therefore got "interim custody" - for over tewo years.

The grief was brutal. It was physical pain. Like a claw sunk into my guts. I was literally writhing with anguish sometimes. In the midst of this, I managed to bump into De Profundis. I am not sure how, because I was incapable of reading most of the time. But I had an old copy of Wilde's Complete Works, and I can remember how my breath was taken away as I read Wilde's account of how it felt to lose his two little sons:


I had lost my name, my position, my happiness, my freedom, my wealth. I was a prisoner and a pauper. But I still had my children left. Suddenly they were taken away from me by the law. It was a blow so appalling that I did not know what to do, so I flung myself on my knees, and bowed my head, and wept, and said, ' The body of a child is as the body of the Lord : I am not worthy of either.' That moment seemed to save me. I saw then that the only thing for me was to accept everything. Since then — curious as it will no doubt sound — I have been happier. It was of course my soul in its ultimate essence that I had reached. In many ways I had been its enemy, but I found it waiting for me as a friend.

This was only one of many passages that gave me such consolation and relief ...

- All trials are trials for one’s life, just as all sentences are sentences of death...

- [Sorrow] is a wound that bleeds when any hand but that of love touches it, and even then must bleed again, though not in pain. Where there is sorrow there is holy ground.

- Now it seems to me that love of some kind is the only possible explanation of the extraordinary amount of suffering that there is in the world. I cannot conceive of any other explanation. I am convinced that there is no other, and that if the world has indeed, as I have said, been built of sorrow, it has been built by the hands of love, because in no other way could the soul of man, for whom the world was made, reach the full stature of its perfection. Pleasure for the beautiful body, but pain for the beautiful soul.
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My two sons are the anchor that chains me to this piss poor excuse of a mortal plain. If I lose them I know I would not last long
 
BellaJewel said:
When I was little, the USSR was this scary entity. We feared Brezhnev could cause the death of millions of Americans by pushing a red button that would launch an ICBM aimed straight for us.
During this latter Cold War era, I got ahold of a book about the Russian Imperial Family. I do not recall the title of the book. I was mesmerized by the lavish style by which they lived and captivated by their story. I was 8 or 9 at the time I read this book and I had no clue about the Bolsheviks, and how the story would end. I was traumatized and couldn’t believe these beautiful children met such a horrible end.
I was fascinated by the woman who claimed to be Grand Duchess Anastasia, the youngest daughter. It was proven via DNA not too long ago that she was not Anastasia, but it was such a great mystery when I was a kid.
This book was the start of my love of all things Russian. I also love to meet Russian people and my dream guy would be a Russian or Ukrainian pilot. Commercial, cargo or military pilots would all be great.
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I have this completely unjustified fear and dislike of Russia especially anything soviet styled and tbh any I have met have been super nice but I can’t wait to leave them or actually go on the offensive as my back and shoulders go straight up on meeting or even hearing of them
All I can think of to justify it is I was born in 79 and raised on a diet of British anti soviet propaganda and Hollywood movies but tbh wouldn’t be surprised if we were also subliminally fed propaganda also
Wish I didn’t feel this way about them but like all leopards 🐆 I cannot change my spots
 
Nightraver said:
I have this completely unjustified fear and dislike of Russia especially anything soviet styled and tbh any I have met have been super nice but I can’t wait to leave them or actually go on the offensive as my back and shoulders go straight up on meeting or even hearing of them
All I can think of to justify it is I was born in 79 and raised on a diet of British anti soviet propaganda and Hollywood movies but tbh wouldn’t be surprised if we were also subliminally fed propaganda also
Wish I didn’t feel this way about them but like all leopards 🐆 I cannot change my spots
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You know, I have found that is what most people think, at least anyone old enough to remember the Cold War.
I had a Hammer and Sickle poster in my room, I had and still wear CCCP t-shirts, I have an AEROFLOT Airlines bag and I have a Russian fake fur hat with a cool Russian insignia pin that I wear in winter. My family wasn’t to happy about this “unhealthy” interest when I was younger.
 
1984 by George Orwell (edgy I know)

Pimp by Iceberg Slim - the memoirs of pimp who started his career in 1940s Chicago not far from where I lived and copped regularly at one point (same streets and everything). The guy was an urban genius and drops some real knowledge about life and uses a lot of his pimp stories as parallels to real-world society. He escaped jail multiple times, got addicted to H, coke, and tranqs and at one point essentially ran downtown Chicago with police protection. He died of old age a free man.
 
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Nightraver said:
My two sons are the anchor that chains me to this piss poor excuse of a mortal plain. If I lose them I know I would not last long
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BellaJewel said:
You know, I have found that is what most people think, at least anyone old enough to remember the Cold War.
I had a Hammer and Sickle poster in my room, I had and still wear CCCP t-shirts, I have an AEROFLOT Airlines bag and I have a Russian fake fur hat with a cool Russian insignia pin that I wear in winter. My family wasn’t to happy about this “unhealthy” interest when I was younger.
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I gave my daughter my old "Red Army" tee shirt ... she said she felt a bit tasteless for wanting to wear it, given what an asshole Stalin was. But I made her feel better by pointing out that while Stalin was an asshole, the Red Army more or less saved the world from Hitler.
 
devilsgospel said:
1984 by George Orwell (edgy I know)

Pimp by Iceberg Slim - the memoirs of pimp who started his career in 1940s Chicago not far from where I lived and copped regularly at one point (same streets and everything). The guy was an urban genius and drops some real knowledge about life and uses a lot of his pimp stories as parallels to real-world society. He escaped jail multiple times, got addicted to H, coke, and tranqs and at one point essentially ran downtown Chicago with police protection.
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1984 is one of my faves!

I first read it when I was about 12. I had tonsillitus and couldn't go to school for three weeks. One day I got lonely and asked my Mum if I could tag along to work with her - she was an English Lit teacher at an adult education college. She installed me in the library.

Gosh... one of the happiest days of my life ... rain bucketing down, freezing cold ... and there I sat, being fussed over by the librarians, who sat me down and made me tea and got out a wee little heater for my feet ... and best of all, I found 1984!

Spent whole day enthralled ... Mum took it out for me so I could finish it, bless her.

Since then I've read it about 50 times.

I have about four copies.

Great, great book.
 
MrsGamp said:
1984 is one of my faves!

I first read it when I was about 12. I had tonsillitus and couldn't go to school for three weeks. One day I got lonely and asked my Mum if I could tag along to work with her - she was an English Lit teacher at an adult education college. She installed me in the library.

Gosh... one of the happiest days of my life ... rain bucketing down, freezing cold ... and there I sat, being fussed over by the librarians, who sat me down and made me tea and got out a wee little heater for my feet ... and best of all, I found 1984!

Spent whole day enthralled ... Mum took it out for me so I could finish it, bless her.

Since then I've read it about 50 times.

I have about four copies.

Great, great book.
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I was in advanced reading classes all through grade school (I'm like so smart guys) and I forgot which year it was but this was one of the books we got in class. I finished it way ahead of when we were supposed to because I just couldn't put it down. I also saw the eerie similarities to the world at large and felt like it was one of the most important books ever written. My younger self has to be even more smug and pretentious now seeing the times we live in lol.
 
devilsgospel said:
I was in advanced reading classes all through grade school (I'm like so smart guys) and I forgot which year it was but this was one of the books we got in class. I finished it way ahead of when we were supposed to because I just couldn't put it down. I also saw the eerie similarities to the world at large and felt like it was one of the most important books ever written. My younger self has to be even more smug and pretentious now seeing the times we live in lol.
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yeah ... btw I am "pretentious" and proud of it ... and the pretentious word for 1984 has gotta be "prescient"!
 
Love is a mixtape by Rob Sheffield
The perks of being a wallflower by Stephen Chomsky
 
As a child - The Chronicles of Narnia by CS Lewis
As a teenager - Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
Early 20's - Flowers in the Attic by Virginia Andrews
Now - The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins

None changed my life per se but they all influenced me in certain ways
 
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