A few years ago, when I published my second book, I was asked to write a short article about the five books that changed my life (and the Bible was assumed so they asked me not to include it). I recently came across the article and thought you might find it interesting. Or not.
Full disclosure, a lot more than five books have changed my life. But when I had to cut it down to just five it made me reach across various literary genres and styles. That was fun, but it created an eclectic list.
So here goes — a comic book, a gigantic novel, a touch of mysticism, a spy book, and a novel about immigration.
Book #1: They call them comic books. I call them the purest form of character development.
I remember the day I picked up my first Peanuts book by Charles M. Shultz—and yes, comic books are real books. The wit and wisdom of the wonderful characters Schulz created taught me a lot about life, even at a young age. I constantly ran across words that I didn’t know, which my parents forced me to look up, of course. I saw my own life in the experiences of Charlie Brown, Snoopy, Linus, and Lucy. Those characters demonstrated right and wrong, laughter and loss, success and failure in a way I’ll never forget, and still enjoy.
Book #2: They call it moral ambiguity. I call it embracing the tension of life.
Shantaram, by Gregory David Roberts, is a novel about living on the edges and coping with the ambiguities of life. True life is about the nuances of timing, the tensions of moralities, the contradictions of our decisions, and counterintuitive truths. For me, living faithfully has meant entering into the messiness of my relationship with God. We are frail, fallen creatures, living in a world that is often maddening. Wrestling with God and seeking to understand the chaos of this world is how I grow closer to my creator. Shantaram may not be a book about faith, but it certainly expands our understanding of human nature.
Book #3: They call it mysticism. I call it, um, mysticism.
The Practice of the Presence of God by Brother Lawrence seems straightforward: we can find God’s presence in every moment of our lives. Big project or little project, daydreaming or praying, work or rest, church or hard labor, God’s presence can be found if we continually focus on Him. It sounds simple, but my attempts at experiencing God this way often fail miserably. Yet occasionally I become conscious of God, moment by moment, never wavering from an awareness of His presence. It’s like being in the room with my wife: we don’t always need to be talking, but we’re always aware of each other, and grateful for the loving presence.
Book #4: They call them patriots and heroes. Well, yes, but I also call them liars and spies.
By the time I was old enough to know what was happening in the world we were being fed a daily dose of bad news from Vietnam, protests in the streets, and tragic assassinations. As a teenager I watched the drama of Watergate unfold. My rose-colored glasses came off for good. That’s why the British espionage book The Spy Who Came in From the Cold, by John le Carre, made this list. A common theme of my favorite books is wrestling with moral dilemmas. This book brilliantly illuminates that tension with its tale of a high-stakes’ contest between the deep love for country and our moral limits. Defining our enemy is often muddled, and knowing how to respond to a threat can reveal more about ourselves than our opponent.
Book #5: They call them illegal aliens. I call them people.
In the junkyard I heard Spanish nearly as often as English. Mexican immigrants were some of our most loyal and talented employees. Several years ago, when a friend suggested I pick up a copy of The Tortilla Curtain by T.C. Boyle, I jumped right in. Boyle tells the stories of two overlapping families: one an upper middle class white family in Southern California, and the other a young Mexican couple, both undocumented, doing odd jobs in the same neighborhood as the white family. Their lives are intertwined—sometimes tragically—and the misunderstanding, mistrust, and fear are palatable. The consequences were as likely to bring me to tears as they were to outrage. Books like this challenge me to see people who are different from myself as fully human. And I appreciate how Boyle offers me no conclusions or solutions, reminding me that answers—if there are any—require effort.
Obviously this list could go on and on. But I’m told this is just about 5 books, no more, so I’ll stop here. The common theme in my favorite books? They all made me see the world through the eyes of someone else, and to wrestle with those new perspectives. They pushed me toward change. Toward justice. Toward love.