I have now quietly made the progression from “graduand” to “graduate”, which means that I am now obliged, by the power of the internet gods, to blog about it, or at the very least use it as an excuse to talk about books, zeitgeists, milestones, FOMO, and other topics favoured by the blogosphere.
Graduation is more defined as much by a lack as it does with what you gain. You’ve got a degree, but suddenly it dawns on you that you don’t have a house, you don’t have any money, you don’t have a satisfying career, you don’t have a steady partner, you don’t have amazing hair etc etc.
Now, if French philosopher Jacques Derrida broadly defines our logocentric culture of signifiers and signified as being based on an empty lack inherent to our being, as opposed to any meaningful, concrete, single idea – who the hell said a degree in literature wasn’t interesting, eh? – then perhaps one way to plug that existential gap in our graduate, depressing lives is, ironically, through shoving more empty words into our heads through some lovely books.
 |
Derrida - not only a badass philosopher but an aficionado of the "intellectual pipe" look.
Seriously, literature degrees - they're absolutely ace. |
So here is a non-prescriptive and non-official list of books that Bethan Smith, BA recommends for all your post-graduation woes, specified on your particular problem:
HELP ME, BOOKSHELF...
… I’m Feeling Nostalgic about My Youth and Wish I Could Go Back in Time!
Try COMING UP FOR AIR by George Orwell
Coming Up For Air is essentially The Great Gatsby, if Jay Gatsby were British, balding, middle aged and above all pathetically realistic. You might get swept up the beautiful prose of F Scott Fitzgerald, but my goodness is Coming Up For Air the depressing dose of reality we all need when we start feeling very sad about our youth.
The unlikeable but utterly absorbing George Bowling sets out to his hometown on the brink of the new world war, only to find that his rose-tinted memories of the place have – quite literally – been paved over. Our youth is a vision in our heads, and nothing more. Orwell here delivers the “You Can’t Repeat The Past” mantra of Fitzgerald, but in a less romantic way that will be just the shot of reality needed for sad, romantic graduates.
Alternatively, try A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess. This book will remind you that youths are scary and being one of them probably isn't a good thing. Being an adult might mean paying your taxes, but at least you’ve grown out of ultraviolence and awkward slang.
… My Auntie Val/Nana Jean/Own Mum is Starting to Pester me about Having Kids!
Try WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN by Lionel Shriver
These types of relatives are the worst. They’re probably the same type of people who think it's a sign of failure to not be earning 40K by 30, and that in the midst of trying to bag a minimum wage job, you should settle with absolutely any human being of the opposite sex and fire out a sprog or two.
The key here is to remind yourself – and possibly them – that ickle babies are a Big Bloody Deal, possibly a life ruining one rather than an adorable addition to your brood. Lionel Shriver’s creation of Kevin is a godsend to all women who want to remain childless. Not only is it a cracking read, and absolutely brilliant for book groups, but it’s positively progressive.
Yes, some readers choose to interpret the ambiguity in this novel – is Kevin a product of his environment, or inherently evil? – as an exploration of post-natal depression and bad motherhood, but I prefer to think of it as a morality tale of successful woman, pressured into motherhood, who sacrifices her career to give birth to a psychopathic demon. The sublime, highly symbolic film adaptation is also a must-watch.
Alternatively, try Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin, a far less subtle exploration of demonic children which also has an excellent film adaptation.
… My Colleagues at Work are Asshats!
Try FILTH by Irvine Welsh
Welsh’s second best novel (after Trainspotting, of course) involves another highly unlikeable protagonist, detective Bruce Robertson, awful but charismatic scumbag. His interactions with his terrible co-workers on the Scottish police force might initially make you feel smug – perhaps you might project your awful boss or co-worker onto his slimy face and be secretly glad when Bruce fails.
But as you peel back the layers and read about Robertson’s sympathetic and sad downfall, perhaps it might even dawn on you that you, the unreliable narrator, the reader of the novel, are yourself a bit of a twonk at work. You should probably be nicer to Karen the secretary, for example. She might have a bit of a weird laugh, but at least she isn’t institutionally racist, sexist and demonic.
Alternatively, try Lucky Jim by Kingsley Amis. Particularly good for any graduates entering the world of academia, Jim Dixon’s dealings with his insufferable colleagues at a redbrick university might be more optimistic than those set out in Filth, but they still offer a poignant, and sometimes humorous, insight into the delicate politics of the working world.
…I’m Stuck Living with my Parents and Hate my Boring Hometown!
Try EMMA by Jane Austen
Austen was bound to end up on here at some point. Austen is both good for you and tastes nice – it’s the Calpol of literature – but I have to say I’ve possibly put Emma on here for dubious reasons.
Controversial opinion alert – I despise Emma, very, very much. But I’ve found that Austen’s most highly praised, yet my least favourite, novel is very good for waking you out of a slump about living in depressing situations where your personal freedom is curtailed.
Essentially, the point of Emma is that it is very dull, which might feel a bit like a get-out-of-jail-for-free card excuse for poor plot development, but that’s the point. Everything is stiflingly domestic, to the point where the summer trip to the local beauty spot, Box Hill, feels as though it takes place indoors. If you haven’t read the novel – one of the characters, Frank Churchill, goes to London for a haircut and it is legitimately the third-most scandalous thing in the novel.
In any case, reading about Emma’s snobbish exploits in a very, very dull town will make you think twice about complaining about your lot.
Alternatively, try The Casual Vacancy by JK Rowling. While not her finest work, the abominably middle England cast of characters in her novel makes even your awful, dull neighbours and the lack of clubs of your hometown seem reasonable.
… My Friend has a more Successful Job than I have and I am Jealous!
Try MONEY: A SUICIDE NOTE by Martin Amis
This novel is born out of the greedy eighties and features a thoroughly caddish lout who sleeps around, eats around, and, for want of a better word, dicks around in the film industry in America after having a very successful career in advertising. John Self is the embodiment of someone who gets success and doesn’t deserve it, a feeling we can all relate to as we bitterly fight to the death in the graduate job arena.
A lot of the joy of this novel is figuring out the plot twist – along with reading its vibrant cast of characters (there is a character with the unfortunate name of “Christian Spunk Davis”, to give you a taste) – so I won’t spoil much. but needless to say there is a spectacular downfall, and if projecting your successful friend onto John Self’s awful character helps you get over your own lack of success, then so be it.
Alternatively, try God Bless You, Eliot Rosewater by Kurt Vonnegut. It’s a useful meditation on philanthropy, nepotism and capitalism in general, and rather than hating the protagonist and indulging in a revenge fantasy, Eliot Rosewater is surprisingly likeable. Vonnegut’s novel will make you realise that money is luck, but what you do with it is what’s important. Eliot Rosewater is both an idiot and a genius and that’s the entire point.
… I'm So Poor, It Hurts!
Try HUNGER by Knut Hamsun
Hunger might have the unfortunate/fortunate side effect of de-romanticising the “starving artist” cliché. So while you root around in the cupboard for the last packet of Tesco Value noodles and imagine yourself to be a classic, poverty stricken bohemian, you can spare a thought for the unnamed protagonist of Hunger who wanders the streets, sometimes out of choice and sometimes out of necessity, starving himself.
Hunger is disturbing and exhilarating in equal measure, as the protagonist experiences dizzying delirium, melancholia and excitement by experiencing deprivation in an almost religious fervour. It will certainly make any cheap meals taste good and will all but eradicate any FOMO you might feel staying in on a Friday night.
Alternatively, try Germinal by Zola. Because if you don’t get a perverse form of gratefulness for your lack-of-money situation by realising you’re not an impoverished coal miner in late nineteenth century France, then I don’t know what will. Reading Germinal is a bit like reading The Communist Manifesto, but it plays out those ideas in a grim, bleak and all too terrifying scenario.
… All the Men I Meet on Tinder are Awful!
Try TESS OF THE D’URBERVILLES by Thomas Hardy
Hardy’s novel should be subtitled “All Men Are Arseholes: A Classic”. Not one man in this book comes across well. Tess's father, Alec, Reverend Clare - even when Angel Clare picks up Tess and carries her across a stream, it’s not so much romantic as a bit pandering and desperate. If Angel were alive in the twenty-first century, he would be the kind of guy who describes his profile as “a nice, kind, funny guy, looking for my princess to look after” but would then promptly slut-shame you when you admit you have had a one-night stand or two.
As a spoiler/warning: it’s well documented that people don’t like the ending to Tess as it spoils the books and makes them upset. I can confirm it will make you upset, but it will also induce feminist rage.
Alternatively, try The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne, which would be subtitled “Down With Double Standards and the Bloody Patriarchy” if I were an editor.
… All of My Friends are in Smug Couples and I’m the Only Singleton in the Village!
Try REVOLUTIONARY ROAD by Richard Yates
To get over relationship envy, it’s no good reading about singletons – look at Bridget Jones’s Diary, for instance. That celebrated book might seem like the book for singletons everywhere, but by the sequel, Bridget herself has morphed into one half of a Smug Couple. Plus she has an unrealistically wonderful job and flat. Reading Bridget Jones, while an escapist, postfeminist fantasy, is bad for realistic expectations.
When you’re feeling sad that you’re alone, it’s far better to read about the bitter realities of coupledom, and Revolutionary Road takes the biscuit. Love and marriage here don’t go together like a horse and carriage – instead, they cause crippled ambition, loneliness, boredom, depression, death and lots of other cheery things. Long-term commitment is just sad, whether it’s in the nineteen-fifties or not. Better to be single and happy than paired off and regretful.
Alternatively, try The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë. Anne is the forgotten Brontë sister for no good reason. Her novel about a woman, her whiny love interest and her drunken and abusive ex-husband is liberating in the sense that it honestly portrayals the downsides of hasty marriages and relationships, and even when – spoilers – Helen and her new man end up together, you can’t help but feel it’s history repeating itself, rather than a classic happy ending.
… I Feel Pressured to Drastically Change My Image!
Try THE LIFE AND LOVES OF A SHE-DEVIL by Fay Weldon
Life and Loves is one of the most underrated novels ever written and it is probably one of the most hands-down enjoyable reads I’ve ever had the pleasure of discovering. That out the way, Life and Loves is brutally honest about beauty, patriarchal standards and labelling in a way that post-graduate you will approve of.
Ruth is married to Bobbo, who promptly leaves her for romance novelist Mary Fisher. Ruth’s quest to live up to her “she-devil” status leads her to change herself and consequentially those around her in a drastic – and bloody satisfying – fashion. The ending is certainly divisive, and I won’t spoil it, but this novel will make you reflect on the notion of identity in a thoroughly enjoyable way.
Alternatively, try The Picture of Dorian Grey. The original "vanity" novel, Dorian Grey’s image stays the same, perfect, youthful appearance and look at how utterly ballsed up his life becomes.
… My Degree is Useless and I’m Never Going to Get the Job I Want!
Try STONER by John Williams
This is not a book about drug culture, so you’ll need to look on another list on another blog for such a recommendation. But Stoner is one of the most beautiful novels you can read and will leave you feeling more appreciative of the powers of studying and absorbing what you love. Moan all you like about being on a rubbish temp job at McDonalds while you secretly yearn to make use of your film studies degree, at least you’re not poor old William Stoner.
Stoner, initially studying an agricultural course at the behest of his farmer parents, reads a Shakespeare sonnet in class and falls in love with literature. As he grows older, his progression into academia is the only thing to keep him afloat while his personal life is shattered around him. Even when his career stagnates, all that keeps Stoner afloat, in the end, is his love of literature. Studying and doing what you love might not bring you obvious happiness, but a true hunger and passion for your craft can work wonders in even the darkest times.
Alternatively, try Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy. Poor Jude. Hardy’s novel features another guy who fails trying to obtain everything that he loves – be that a partner, a sense of job satisfaction, but most of all the chance to study. Granted, it involves tons more death, depression and nastiness than Stoner. But Jude, in spite of all his hard work and desire, never even gets to go to Christminster to study. You have a degree. You can do something with that. So chin up.
… I’m Never Going to be a Published Author!
Try FIFTY SHADES OF GREY by EL James
If this can get published, anything can. Keep telling yourself that. Please borrow a library copy - whether it's germ infested or no - to avoid spending your money on it. Reading this book sober and alone is horrid, but reading it blind drunk out loud with a bunch of friends is bloody brilliant. You’re welcome.
