Books That I Feel I Am Supposed to Love but Don't.

On not being a wolf

I am not a wolf. There, I said it. When did wild women first get associated with wolves and why is this association so enduring? I am not a wolf, nor do I care to be a wolf. Wolves are predators and I run with the sheep and horses. Gentleness and empathy are embedded deep in my bones. There is no doubt in my mind that wolf mothers are gentle and caring with their young but at their heart they are predators.

If anything, I am a deer and not a wolf. I was told once by a shaman that my totem animal was a deer. This didn’t sit right with me initially. My sister, the perfect one in my parent’s eyes, collected stuffed and figurine deer. If anyone belonged to the deer it was her. This same shaman told me I would marry someone from Eastern European descent, a person who would share a dream with me and here I am married to someone with Czech descent, a person who I did indeed share a dream with. We actually had the same dream one night. I can’t describe the shock I felt when we woke up and discovered this fact. The shaman told me not to be friends with people who hunt deer and largely I am not. I have eaten roadkill deer twice because there is no sense in wasting good meat, and I tried to do so with as much respect as I could in case I was eating one of my own (dark, I know).

Ruffnut and Tuffnut were two skittish Soay sheep who would run from their own shadow. They lived a strict anti-wolf life that I respected as their shepherdess.

I was a freshman at Lewis & Clark College when I first read the book Women Who Run with the Wolves. The Trash Queen was my roommate and she recommended it. She was rich, beautiful, and privileged (although not really all that nice of a person) and she was the daughter of the owner of a large Southern California trash company, hence the name. The Trash Queen told me it changed her life as a woman and that it liberated her and that all women should read it. All the other privileged girls at Lewis & Clark (who really were not all that nice of people) were reading it and they talked about how life changing the book was. Really, it should have been up my alley: the wild women archetype runs deep in me. But deer are wild too, as are butterflies, caterpillars, fish, eagles, and a whole host of other animals from large to small.

I didn’t actually ever enjoy the book but so many people found the book life changing (or so they said) that I played along with the game. I thought I was supposed to be a wolf. I started collecting little wolf figurines. I got a wolf ornament for the Christmas tree. This all made sense in my 18 year old brain and it’s not until many many decades later that I understand why I didn’t like the book.

But first, here are some more books I never enjoyed.

I was at the Fort Vancouver gift shop when I picked up my now long thrown away copy of Braiding Sweetgrass. I was so excited to finally own it and read it because I heard how life changing the book was. There are those words again: life changing. World view changing even. Except I found the book fundamentally unreadable. I slogged through the first two chapters and couldn’t continue. I kept in on my shelf for a few years out of guilt because everyone else sings the praises of the book. In the end I threw it away. Yes, as in putting it in the trash and not donating it like I usually do. Please don’t judge me but throwing away that book was liberating. I also threw away my high school yearbooks recently and refuse to apologize.

I tried countless times to read Braiding Sweetgrass. I still feel guilt that I couldn’t even read it. The smattering of negative reviews on Goodreads makes me feel slightly better, but still.

Anything by Sharon Blackie is also something I am supposed to enjoy. Archetypes and myth are right up my alley, yet I find no resonance with her words. This leads me to Wendell Berry. Everyone loves Wendell Berry. I recently purchased The World-Ending Fire: The Essential Wendell Berry because I still feel like I am supposed to love him as well but as I make my way through the essays, I find them readable, but not life changing and not something I need to go back to read again and again. I am not quite slogging through the words, but they don’t bring me feeling either and I think the book is a little boring. Blasphemous words for some to read, I’m sure.

[Keep a look out for my next essay where I will delve further into why I don’t enjoy either Sharon Blackie or (and especially) Wendell Berry]

Oddly, if I became stranded on a deserted island and could have only one book to read for my entire life it would be The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand, a book people tend to hate vehemently. One of my copies was given to me by a brief high school boyfriend who stole it from the Vernonia High School library. I have reread this book so often that I had to tape the entirety of the cover to keep it held together. Eventually I had to buy a new copy to read but I still have my original.

But I digress, I just wanted to show that I do love books; I promise that I really do.

I’m still struggling as to why those books stand out to me as books I never enjoyed. At almost 30 years post college I tried to reread Women Who Run With the Wolves. I made it through the first chapter when I realized I wasn’t a wolf and I read no further and donated my copy so maybe somebody who is a wolf can read it. I would love for someone to read the list of the other books and say, “Hey Kimberly, here is why those books don’t resonate with you.”

Life is too short to read bad books, including bad books that everyone else loves. I have aired my dirty book hating laundry publicly in preparation of talking about books I do love. Maybe I should also write about books I’m not supposed to love but do. I’m sure Lolitta by Nabokov would top that list. The subject matter hits closer to home than I care to admit and is….really really tough. The book shouldn’t exist but is so expertly crafted to sway the reader in favor of a monster that it is a must-read book in my opinion. Yes, even after all that has come out with the Epstein Files and maybe especially because of it.

I consider Mossygoat Farm to be a literary farmstead, and books have played a large part in who we are and what we do, just not the books I feel were supposed to shape my worldview.

Welcome wild book lovers to this space and I look forward to more book talks in the future.

-Kimberly

I wish I had a library room but this big ol’ house has lots of bookcases scattered about in various rooms instead.

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