Growing up, I have always found direction through the books I read.
American essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson describes the relationship readers have to their books in his statement, “I cannot remember the books I’ve read any more than the meals I have eaten; even so, they have made me.” My appetite for books as a child kept me an avid reader well into my teenage years. It is this appetite, among other callings, which led me to study English literature and communications in Dublin, Ireland.
And I have found it to be stuffy business.
My past year has been spent wading into the academic world of literature, dissecting the works of Chaucer, Shakespeare and Donne, hanging on words and phrasings that were put to paper generations ago.
To be clear, I do largely enjoy what the classic works of literature offer. They improve my referential mind, strengthen my writing ability, and on the lighter side, equip me with an arsenal to challenge the European educations of my peers. Beyond the classroom, reading classic literature provides me a linkage to some of the greatest depictions of the human condition ever put to text. Classics are classic, after all.
Yet as I prepare to return to university and talk (book)shop with my peers, it strikes me that the most impactful book I have consumed this summer has not been Tolstoy’s legendary “Anna Karenina” (1878), Zamyatin’s harrowing “We” (1924), or Hesse’s revealing “Siddhartha” (1922) — although I highly recommend them.
No, the most impactful book I have picked up this summer was a book that found its way to me: “Minding Our Own Business” (1955), a memoir by Charlotte Paul.
The book details Paul’s adventure in owning and operating the Snoqualmie Valley Record during the 1950s with her husband, Ed Groshell, and two young sons, Hiram and John. The writing is meandering, time-bound, and easy to digest, filled with day-to-day moments which made up the journalist’s lifestyle in the more rural days of the Valley. I was gifted an original edition of the book, along with Paul’s other works, by former Snoqualmie Valley Record owner Jim McKiernan, to whom I will now hold as a figure crucial to my development.
The collection of Paul’s books is incredibly close to home for me, both as a writer for the newspaper and a Valley resident. The inside cover of Paul’s “And Four to Grow” (1961) bears seven stamps from the SnoValley Senior Center of Carnation placed there sometime between 1961 and now, as well as a heartfelt note written by Paul to a close friend who once owned my edition. Even my acquisition of the books is incredibly intimate — I was placed in contact with Jim McKiernan through my lead informant Gene Stevens, who doubles as my great uncle when he isn’t chasing down leads on my behalf.
It is within this old book that I have become a better English student. However, it is within the words of Charlotte Paul that have made be a better small-town journalist and community member.
There have been a handful of moments that have shaped my relationship to local literature. I read the final chapters of Guterson’s “Snow Falling on Cedars” (1994) sitting atop the coastal rocks of Cattle Point on San Juan Island, gazing out toward the stretch of salty brine where character Carl Heine died in his fish nets. I enjoyed fresh dumplings in Chinatown while simultaneously consuming Ford’s “Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet” (2009), a historical novel set in WWII-era Seattle Chinatown. In Dublin, I strolled the streets following the same paths of the characters in Joyce’s “Dubliners” (1914). Even as a child, I remember the spark of pride when I discovered that the wacky aliens of Clete Barrett Smith’s “Aliens on Vacation” (2011) were creeping around a rural Washington town just like my own.
And can you imagine the spark of pride I feel when reading Paul’s work, chock full of places and family names I hold close to my heart, and journalist ideals which I have committed myself to? Sometimes a book just finds you right when you need it.
Local literature is important. Take it upon yourself to read something close to home. It builds community, literary culture, and most importantly, is a physical treasure which you can share to the world.
The next two local books on my list are Fred Beckey’s “Challenge of the North Cascades” (1996), as well as Canadian artist Emily Carr’s “Klee Wyck” (1941). If you have any recommendations on local literature, please feel free to contact me.
–
Longtime Snoqualmie Valley resident Benjamin Floyd is a Cedarcrest High School graduate who is attending college at the University College Dublin. Contact floydfloydben2@gmail.com.
