Books To Bury Me With: Lauren Sapala

The book I’d want to take with me to the grave: 

Still Here: Embracing Aging, Changing, and Dying by Ram Dass

 

I have found that nobody makes you feel better about dying than Ram Dass. If I’m going to the grave and wish I could be more Zen about it, I’m taking this book. No matter what age you are, if you’re freaked out about dying (or you’re not really relishing the aging process), this one’s a gem.

 

The first book that hit me like a ton of bricks: 

IT by Stephen King

 

IT was my first Stephen King, and my first real “grown-up” book. I read it when I was 12 years old and my mom had just died. The story sucked me in, rocked me to the core, and also gave me a lifeline to hold onto through the heaviest sadness I have ever felt. I had never seen characters done like that before, every single one felt like an honest-to-God real person. 35 years later and I still feel that IT is one of the best books I’ve ever read.

 

The book that’s seen more of my tears, coffee stains, and cigarette burns: 

Morgan’s Passing by Anne Tyler

 

I am one of those people that believes Anne Tyler is a literary genius, and I will die on that hill. I’ve read most of her books, but this is the one I’ve come back to again and again over the years. It made sense to me when I was 15 years old (when I would have left cigarette burns), a different kind of sense to me at 30 years old (tears), and still a different kind of sense to me now, at 46 years old (coffee stains). No matter how much I change and age, it always makes sense.  

 

The book that shook my world like a goddamn hurricane: 

The Varieties of Religious Experience by William James

 

I was not raised religiously and I had no use for religion for most of my life. It didn’t interest me at all. This book changed all that. William James was the first person who helped me see that spirituality is linked to psychology is linked to philosophy is linked to EVERYTHING. After I read this book, I found one of my true loves: religious studies. I’m still not what I would call “religious,” but religious studies is now one of my passions.

 

The book I wish I’d discovered when my liver was still intact: 

The Story of Junk by Linda Yablonsky

 

This book isn’t about alcohol, it’s about heroin (which can obviously be deduced from the title), but it still gave me the same kind of lesson. I read this way back in 2002, before everything was on the internet and I had a difficult time finding any information about the author. I honestly couldn’t tell if this was a memoir or a novel and that added to the intensity. It’s a raw look at what it was like to be a heroin addict working in the restaurant industry and hanging out in the art scene in NYC in the early 1980s. I also read this when I lived in Seattle, right around the time that Layne Staley was found dead in his apartment, a victim of his own drug addiction, so it was kind of the perfect book at the perfect time.

 

The book I’d shove into everyone’s hands if I were king of the world: 

Age of Turbulence by Alan Greenspan

 

This is an autobiography by Alan Greenspan, economist and former Chair of the Federal Reserve of the United States. I’ve met a lot of people who think they don’t like Alan Greenspan. But you know what? I bet if they read this book they would change their minds. Because he is AWESOME. He’s got a brilliant mind, a sharp sense of humor, and a quiet integrity that all comes across so beautifully in this book. I learned a TON about how our economy works and how the federal funds rate is used to regulate things. It sounds boring but it’s not. Alan Greenspan somehow makes it scintillating. Everyone should read this book!

 

The book that nearly drove me to madness:

Visions of Cody by Jack Kerouac

 

Oh I how I love Jack Kerouac. I really, really do. He was one of my first literary loves. I read On the Road three times. I read Big Sur five times. But Visions of Cody is entirely different from those old faves. Visions of Cody is like a Finnegan’s Wake remix. Or like William Carlos William’s Kora in Hell, but somehow even more experimental and difficult. I do not recommend this one. I loved it, but I do not recommend it. Unless you’re one of those people that likes things like sound art and abstract expressionism. Then you’ll probably find it to be a good challenge.

 

The book I can’t keep my hands off of, no matter how many times I’ve read it:

 My Life with Charles Manson by Paul Watkins. 

 

Full disclosure: I’m a Manson nut. I’m one of those people who has gone FAR down the rabbit hole and read just about every book published on the Manson Family. This account by Paul Watkins is one of the best. It’s detailed and honest about how dysfunctional the Family was, while also giving off an oddly cozy vibe as he describes the Family’s day-to-day life at Spahn Ranch. It’s like Dharma Bums meets Helter Skelter. It’s also out of print and paperback versions are pretty expensive, but you can find it online for free in PDF form. Definitely worth tracking it down, even for those with just a passing interest in the 1960s or the cult of Manson.

 

The book I’d hide in the back of my closet, pretending I’m too highbrow for it: 

No Greater Love by Danielle Steel

 

I was a book snob for many years, publicly scoffing at romance novels and anything that seemed too commercial and written for the masses. “Airport kiosk novels,” I would say, dismissing anything popular my friends tried to recommend to me. And that whole time, I had a dirty secret. I had No Greater Love, a Danielle Steel novel, stashed in my drawer. Since that time, I have dropped the obnoxious pretentious attitude and have freely admitted my admiration for Danielle Steel, one of the hardest working writers out there. The woman has written 190 books. She’s a bad ass. And No Greater Love is an awesome book. It covers one woman’s journey through escaping the Titanic, living through the golden years of Hollywood and becoming a female entrepreneur in the early part of the 20^th century. I’ve read it over ten times and I’ll read it again, and now I’m going to be proud about it, so there.

 

The book that left a scar I wish I could forget: 

Cancer Ward by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

 

Jesus Christ this book was so super effing intense. Also probably one of the best books I’ve ever read. The story is a detailed view into a Soviet hospital in 1953 (the year Stalin died) and the old regime was shifting. Every character has a different kind of cancer and we get all the gnarly details. A devout high-ranking party member has a huge tumor jutting out of his throat. Another guy, who has been “exiled in perpetuity” (which is apparently what happened in the Stalinist Soviet state when you pissed off the Party) has stomach cancer. A brilliantly-gifted young scientist has sarcoma and is weeks away from dying. A beautiful young girl has cancer in her breast and has to have it taken off. She hooks up with a sweet young man who just had a full leg amputation. This book is insanely bleak. And insanely beautiful. I will never, ever forget it. 

 

The author who made me think, "Now that’s a soul in torment": 

Setting Sun by Osamu Dazai

 

When I drink too much coffee, I get a weird kind of anxiety. It’s like anxiety times ten with a strong dose of nihilism thrown in. The only way I can describe it is “existential terror.” It’s quiet and creeping, and also one of the most horrible emotions I’ve ever experienced. This book is the narrative form of that feeling. At one point the narrator says, “I saw that the future contained nothing more than abhorrent and malevolent experiences for me,” and I was like, damn, she really nailed the whole atmosphere of this book in one sentence. Somehow, added to this horrible, quiet, creeping, utterly depressing atmosphere is an elegant, brilliant beauty suffused throughout every scene. This is the genius of Osamu Dazai. The story itself is also amazing—a look at the changing values of post-WWII Japan and how people are torn in two trying to find their place in the new world. I recommend this one to history fans AND fans of super-depressing literature.

 

The book I’d get a tattoo of if I had the nerve:

1Q84 by Haruki Murakami

 

1Q84 by Haruki Murakami is one of those books where the title makes no sense until you read the book, but then the title feels really cool and edgy and you want to doodle it everywhere like you’re back in high school writing cryptic song lyrics all over the covers of your notebooks. After you read the story (the very long story with many twists and turns) you realize the extremely short title says it all. I love anything by Murakami, but I consider this his masterpiece. It’s surrealistic fiction combined with fantasy (maybe?) and high strangeness. It’s impossible to describe. Just read it.

 

The book that made me question everything I thought I knew:

In Search of the Miraculous by P.D. Ouspensky

 

In Search of the Miraculous is an autobiographical account of the Russian author P.D. Ouspensky’s time spent with the spiritual guru G.I. Gurdjieff (who was possibly the prototype for Charles Manson but never killed anyone—that we know of—so a bit more respected and less maligned by the general public). Ouspensky studied with Gurdjieff and went through his spiritual method of “The Work” in the years leading up to WWI, and then struck out on his own to carry the program to the masses. In Search of the Miraculous is a fascinating exploration of higher consciousness, the theory of the multiverse, eternal recurrence, and deep psychological disintegration and personal development. Was Gurdjieff a complete fraud? Did Ouspensky waste his life chasing after an illusion? Was there something real to “The Work” the entire time but it can never be grasped by mere mortals? I still have no idea, but this book is excellent and everyone who is a serious seeker of the soul should read it. 

 

The book that’s so damn good I’d never loan it out: 

The White Album by Joan Didion

 

Two words: Joan Didion. I don’t even know that I need to say anything else. The woman was a genius. The White Album is a collection of her essays on the 1960s. She basically ran around Haight-Ashbury in the 1960s dressed in classic Joan Didion style (think: tailored blazers and Mary Jane shoes) and somehow not only didn’t get ejected by the hippies but was welcomed into their world and able to be a fly-on-the-wall for all the acid trips and late-night rap sessions. I initially picked up this book because it contains an essay on the Manson Family (obviously), but then I got sucked in by the rest of the collection. Joan Didion is at her best here: So dry and understated in her prose that you barely even pick up on the fact that she’s also being extremely acerbic and biting. The term “piquant” (“a pleasantly sharp and stimulating flavor, often with a hint of bitterness.”) might have been invented to describe her style. 

 

The book that’s been my companion through the darkest nights:

Ghost Story by Peter Straub

 

I’ve read a lot of horror. I’ve read popular horror (Stephen King, Dean Koontz), flowery erotic horror (Anne Rice), blood-and-guts horror (Jack Ketchum), and psychological horror (Shirley Jackson). Ghost Story by Peter Straub is one of the only horror novels I’ve read that truly got under my skin and scared me. The story is what I think of as an “echo story,” meaning that you can tell that the author gave birth to the story because they were inspired by another story, in this case, Peter Straub’s inspiration was Something Wicked This Way Comes by Bradbury. If you read Bradbury’s novel, and then you read this one, you’ll feel the echo. And it is EERIE. Something Wicked This Way Comes also gave me the willies, in much the same way. I love “echo stories” because a lot of what I write is an echo of books I’ve read that have changed me, and so they give me the confidence to keep going on my own journey as a writer.

 

The book I’d throw in someone’s face during a heated argument: 

The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand

 

Whether or not you agree with Ayn Rand’s views, the woman was brilliant. And whether or not The Fountainhead is a “realistic” portrayal of anything, it’s great. I’ve read it three times and I’ll read it many more times. Howard Roark is the ideal man who doesn’t care about the opinion of any other human being and is solely and passionately focused on his own work, and yeah, he’s my idol in a way. But in my opinion the true hero of this book is Gail Wynand. Gail Wynand is flawed, and dark, and unsavory at times. He’s also determined, brutally honest, and someone who takes responsibility for his life. In fact, that’s why I love Ayn Rand, she urges people to take responsibility for themselves and their lives, and she doesn’t accept the pre-packaged excuses so many people use to justify why they don’t hold self-respect as one of the highest values of a self-actualized human being. Every character in The Fountainhead—even the villains—have something to say that will cut right through any kind of excuse-making or ego-defensive argument someone is trying to hide behind.

 

The book that reminds me of a lost love or regret: 

Sorrows of Young Werther by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

 

I’ve read Sorrows of Young Werther four or five times and it breaks my heart every time. It begins in the spring when Werther falls in love and, MAN, the reader really FEELS it. Goethe sends you back to falling in the love for the first time all over again. The rush, the euphoria, the eternal hope, and the lusty sexual energy. And then spring turns into summer turns into fall…and Werther’s love falls apart and his world turns dark with the seasons. He’s destined to never be united with his beloved because she’s betrothed to another man (he ends up being friends with both of them which sounds like it would be awkward but actually works in a odd way), and then at the end of the book he gives up on everything and kills himself. I would apologize for the spoiler, but if you even cursorily research this book, you’ll find that it sparked a wave of suicides of young men suffering from unrequited love when it was first published 250 years ago so it’s not like there hasn’t been ample time for the ending to be revealed anyway.

 

The book I wish I could have written, but know I never could:

Glamorama by Bret Easton Ellis

 

I love ALL of Bret Easton Ellis’s books (I’ve been a huge BEE fan for years), but this one might be my favorite. Victor Ward is a young male model who is the protagonist of this story and he’s maybe the most selfish, shallow, self-absorbed LA-type narcissist you’ll ever meet, but he has a certain charm too. He grows on you after a while, and by the end of the book I liked him quite a bit. This book starts out feeling like a contemporary fiction novel with a bit of a surrealist/absurdist vibe and then it gets just downright WEIRD and it goes more in the direction of Gravity’s Rainbow, if Gravity’s Rainbow was written by Quentin Tarantino. My favorite line from this book is: “The better you look, the more you see.” Victor seems to use this phrase to mean “the better you physically look/the more attractive you are, then the more scenes you get into and the more you see in the world,” and also, “the closer you look at things, the more hidden layers are revealed.” It’s never clarified which meaning he’s attaching to it when it comes up, which makes it all the more awesome.

 

The book that makes me want to drink myself into oblivion: 

Strange Life of Ivan Osokin by P.D. Ouspensky

 

I got my hands on this after reading In Search of the Miraculous because Ouspensky references this as his first novel, and mentions that he explores the theme of eternal recurrence in this story. When the novel begins it feels like your run-of-the-mill fin de siècle novel, taking place in Russia and focusing on a young man, Ivan Osokin, who has been frustrated in life, can’t get the girl he wants, can’t get ahead for some reason, and is just generally feeling like a mediocre failure. But then he meets a strange man who is some sort of sinister magician, and the story takes on much more of a fantasy/weird fiction feel. The magician transports Ivan back to his childhood, effectively granting him a big life “do-over” to see if he can figure it out this time. Ivan tries valiantly to make different choices and change things, but he ends up doing everything just the way he did last time, no matter how hard he fights himself to do it differently (and if you have ever struggled with addiction, you will really get this). My favorite quote from this book is: "There is something in us that keeps us where we find ourselves. I think this is the most awful thing of all."

 

The book that’s been my refuge from the world’s cruelty:

Zorba the Greek by Nikos Kazantzakis

 

Zorba! Zorba is the most hopeful, energizing character I have ever encountered! According to the internet, Zorba is “the Greek personification of the spirit of life.” Whenever I am feeling sorry for myself, or pessimistic or jaded or cynical, I conjure the spirit of Zorba and bring his energy into my heart. Zorba dances and laughs and plays, and he never takes himself or life too seriously. Even when buckets of (metaphorical) crap are dumped on him, he doesn’t stay down for long. He’s resilient and bounces back like a rubber ball and is soon laughing at the hilarious absurdity of life again. The narrator of this book is serious, introspective, and cautious (like me) and Zorba is just what he needs to teach him to break free of the self-imposed prison of his own control-freak-tendencies (also me). We can all take a lesson from Zorba the Greek.