My bookshelf is as eclectic as a thrift store quilt, with books and anthologies from every age and every style. It’s almost as if I learned my love of literature through trial and error, but I promise that is not the case. Truth be told, I am a harsh god to my bookshelf and am quick to throw out or gift away any book that does not intrigue me in the way I hoped. Here lie the survivors, the chosen few I continuously return to due to their lasting impacts on me as an academic, a woman, and a human.
Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen
In what world could I, this hopeless romantic, not include my leatherbound copy of Pride and Prejudice? The very first enemies-to-lovers left me hungry as a pre-teen watching Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth. After taking an Austen class and rereading the novel with a more analytical eye, I opened more to its charms and quirks. I don’t care how much the movies remove from your personality, Darcy. You’re still my number one book crush.
The Prophet – Khalil Gibran
A book of 26 different poetic fables written by Lebanese-American Khalil Gibran. I am a woman of Lebanese descent who grew up in the Caribbean and immigrated to the US. Gibran’s poetry spoke so many impossible truths to this patchwork woman. The themes surrounding religion, life, and the human condition roused something pure in me that I thought I had once lost. Everyone deserves to read this book. Everyone.
Affrilachia – Frank X. Walker
The very same man who coined the term ‘Affrilachia’ in order to remove the stereotypical view of Appalachia wrote a poetry collection 9 years later. This collection was handed to me in an Appalachian Literature class, fresh off of reading some gory McCarthy, and I dove right in. This anthology is a testament to Black creatives in the region and their true lived experience. As a non-Black reader, most poems were clearly not meant for me but still left lasting impacts. I cannot recommend Affrilachia enough.
Voices of Cherokee Women – Edited by Carolyn Ross Johnston
Something that still strikes me as odd today is the difference between the treatment of Natives in America versus my home country. In Guyana, the Native population is revered and cared for. There are still a great many remote tribes living in the thick of the Amazon and they do so happily. Imagine my shock as I moved here and saw the polar opposite. This compilation of true Cherokee voices aided my understanding of the treatment of Native peoples, especially as I read it in my apartment on stolen Cherokee land.
Roots, Branches, and Spirits: The Folkways and Witchery of Appalachia – H. Byron Ballard
This book is a little out of left field, I know, but it is a core tenet of my bookshelf. As an immigrant, I had to leave a large part of my witchcraft behind in my hometown and learn the practice anew in an unfamiliar place. Ballard’s knowledge combines with Southern charm to teach both the history and modern practices of witchcraft in Appalachia.
Under the Skin – Linda Villarosa
If there is any book you pick up from my bookshelf, let it be this. Villarosa explores the connections between race, gender, and medicine through a non-medical lens that any reader can digest. As heartbreaking of a read as this may be, trust Villarosa to back up any and all claims with necessary evidence and historical context. Despite being painfully aware of the yawning maw of systemic racism in this country, Under the Skin introduces yet another way to be angry.
Rachel Mekdeci (she/her) is a foul-mouthed, mixed-race, Caribbean-immigrant Taurus with a bleeding heart passionate for the arts. As an undergraduate Literature student at the University of Tennessee, she takes every opportunity to write about queer literature and intersectional feminism. Her number one mission in life is to further the reach of the arts and maybe own a house?
