Years ago when my son was in high school, one of his classmates said something that I laughed at back then but have since come to understand is the truth: Sam said he was "sick of reading books because he had plenty of his own thoughts." At 16 that's a silly statement, since one virtually knows nothing, but as I grew older, the more I agreed with it. Soon enough I stopped reading novels altogether, except old favorites, because I understood they were just someone else's thoughts and I had my own!
But now, so many years later, I have grown tired of my own thoughts. They are used and stale and ceased being constructive long ago, yet they still run rampant through my brain. I'm ready for some new ones yet unsure of how to get any. I've tried surfing the internet but that's all just trash and lies. TV is of course a vast wasteland, and that's not something I thought up myself:
Until I find one I'm stuck inside my own head, which these days is not a pleasant place to be, crowded as it is with thoughts of Israeli hostages and Hamas terrorists and obese Americans having heart attacks and diabetes and Trump-haters whining and getting on everyone's nerves.
Despite young Sam's declaration, I might have to rely on one of my favorite novels until I figure it out. Following is a list of books that never fail to spark and sparkle my brain, and possibly would do the same for yours.
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
The Sweet Hereafter by Russell Banks
The Plague by Albert Camus
White Noise by Don DeLillo
Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton
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