It's a classic

When I was in the fourth or fifth grade, I received an award. I can't recall what the reward was for- something to do with reading or writing, perhaps- I can only remember that it was this really big thing at my school. Only a handful of students were selected for the award and it was presented to us during this big reception with our parents, our teachers and a slew of flashing cameras in attendance. My parents were thrilled that I'd won the award and got me all dressed up to attend the reception. I don't remember much about the reception or even about receiving the award. What I do remember, however, is what happened afterward.

Instead of heading home after the affair was over, my parents loaded me up and rushed me off to the bookstore. They wanted to reward my success with a brand new set of books, so after browsing for hours, we came upon a collection of classics. Romeo and Juliet, The Prince and the Pauper, A Tale of Two Cities, White Fang, Little Women, Jane Eyre, A Connecticut Yankee, A Christmas Carol and so many others all sat side by side, their hard spines calling my name.

My father and I reach out at the same time and selected a book. We ran our hands lovingly over the covers, our eyes wide. "This is it!" he exclaimed quietly, looking excitedly between my mom and I.

I nodded my head in agreement and we all set to work loading our baskets with every title they had on the shelves. By the time we were finished, I had a massive collection and was in book heaven. My obsession had officially begun.

We raced home to introduce my treasures to their new home. I didn't have a bookcase at the time, but had already begun to amass a collection of young adult fiction. My mom worked as a manager at a convenience store and would bring me home hard plastic milk crates. I had them stacked on their sides, five across and three up, and all of my books sat in neat little rows on those shelves, proudly displayed. I set to work making room for my new books, stopping every few minutes to pick one up and read.

I finally managed to get them all situated and selected one to read; The Prince and the Pauper. I curled up in my bed and read for hours that night. I read for days. Within weeks, I'd read every title we'd bought and was dying for more. Mom and dad were happy to oblige and would make a point of stopping by the book section of the store anytime they were there to see if they could find me a title I didn't yet own.

When they found one, I was ecstatic. When they didn't, I was so bummed I'd mope for hours before deciding to reread one of the classics already gracing my shelves. By the time my junior year rolled around, I no longer had the collection (it had never made the move to Arkansas with me), but I still collected books like others collected stamps.

My junior year, I got the chance to take a course in classic literature and was over the moon. I danced around in excitement for days, not even the frequent migraines spoiling the excitement. When the semester started, I dove in. We started with The Illiad. I'd read it already and adored it. Reading it again was a beautiful thing.

And then we got to Agamemnon. I'd never read Agamemnon, but had heard of Agamemnon and his rather pathetic assish life story through other tales and myths. So, I was uber excited to dive into it.

I hated it almost instantly. I'm still not sure why I hated it that first time. I just couldn't get into it, didn't appreciate it. Was bored to tears by it. Agamemnon was an idiot, Clytemnestra a vindictive hussy, Cassandra a fool, Aegisthus an ass. I forced myself to finish it, however and came away with little appreciation for Aeschylus.

Just recently I reread Agamemnon and upon rereading, decided it wasn't as bad as I thought the first time around. Don't get me wrong, it still isn't at all my favorite, but it isn't completely terrible either.

It did make me wonder though, what makes a classic classic? In some cases, such as Agamemnon, I'd probably argue that they're considered classics simply because they're really freaking old. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure there are other reasons... but if I'm honest about it, the really freaking old criteria seems to come first in some cases. And it really doesn't make much sense.

Ernest Hemingway said that "all good books are alike in that they are truer than if they had really happened and after you are finished reading one, you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you, the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was."

While I'm not sure I agree completely with him, I can certainly see where he's coming from. The classics, to me, are the timeless pieces that never get old, no matter how many years have passed since they were written. They are the ones that are as true in many ways today as they were when first penned. The ones we read not because they're really freaking old, but because even though they are really freaking old, they're still new.
They still have something to offer, no matter how many times you pick them up. You can still get lost in the story, still find a new moral or theme even if you've read it a hundred times and can still, in some way, come away from the reading feeling as if you've learned more not only about the time in which the piece was meant, but in the present time as well. They are the tales that make you think not because they are written in some archaic form, but because what is conveyed sets the wheels in motion despite that archaic form.

They are the ones that are, whether you liked them or not, remembered. Whether true or not, are honest. Whether comedic or tragic, are relatable. They are the ones that may make the traditional list of classics or may only make your list of classics.

That last point is probably one that most would argue with, but I think it's true nonetheless. That traditional list differs depending on where you get the list. There is room for personal preference on that list and there is no single acceptable definition of a classic.

Which leads me to a question for you...

Is it contrary to the purpose of having a list if we each have our own definitions? At some point, we all have to read at least one of the classics for some school assignment or another; how do we decide what makes the cut and what doesn't? And does it really matter if the book is on the traditional list or not to you?

I personally think you should pick which of the classics you wish to read, but that you should most certainly read them. A lot of students find them boring. I just wonder if we eliminated the required reading of a specific book and allowed them to choose which title to read... would it make the titles more appealing to students or would we just be asking for an entirely different problem?

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