One of my best friends has a framed portrait of Oprah above her mantel, right next to the portrait of her grandmother and great grandmother. Plus, strategically on display on her coffee table is “One Hundred Years of Solitude,” this year’s headliner for Oprah’s book club. Her living room d?cor was strangely parallel to some type of religious symbolism, the guru framed on the wall and her easily accessible word on the coffee table.
Why has Oprah become such a common household name? Maybe because she began as a young black girl from Mississippi and is now one of the richest women in the world. Her name is synonymous the American Dream. And since society seems to covet everything that is associated with celebrity, why not buy their clothes, get their haircuts and do something more proactive like read their favorite books?
Despite being an enormous clich? and previously a little too self-helpish in thematic content (“A Return to Love” and “The Power of Now” are only a few on her past lists), Oprah and her book club have created an empire of middle-aged women who are now seeking solace from children and the workplace in the pages of great literary geniuses such as Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
Marquez’s “One Hundred Years of Solitude” is one of my two favorite books of all time. But in truth, I was a little upset that it was headlining Oprah’s list, because I, as I have realized, have a pompous sense of who is allowed to read what.
Millions of people will now be reading Marquez’s Nobel Prize-winning novel, not because it appeals to them intellectually or emotionally, but because Oprah put her name on it. That’s my problem-if everyone had been blessed with teachers who taught them to love literature from the beginning, they wouldn’t have to refer to daytime TV to find a good read. They would have enough experience to pick out good books for themselves.
Whether you’re lifeguarding at the public pool back home, working the cash register at a Planet Smoothie, or getting on the fast track with a super impressive internship, set aside some time for a good, cozy book. “War and Peace” perhaps, maybe even “Les Temps Perdu.” I myself will begin the summer by reading Kate Spade’s masterpiece, “Style,” the last of a three-part series. Kelly Ripa recommended it.
