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Thursday, Jan. 30, 2025
The Observer

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(Non-class related) books to get through the winter months

When I was in high school, my parents banned our phones around ten o’clock and never allowed electronics outside of the kitchen. As such, my nights were consumed by books — whatever got strewn throughout the house or uploaded onto my Kindle. Reading became my relaxation activity. But once given unlimited access to my phone in college, I slowly replaced it with the typical mindless scrolling. The sheer volume of reading required for my classes added to it — who wants to wind down from a book with another book? However, approaching the premature panic around the TikTok ban, I, like many others I’m sure, pondered what to do with my free time. Even with TikTok’s resurgence, I deleted the app. It’s time to rediscover my hobbies. Progress is slow on this front. I spent three hours today creating a Goodreads account. Contrarily, I spent zero hours reading. Anyway, in my thinking, I have crafted a list of books that I think fit each of the winter months in case anyone else was similarly inspired. Fair warning: the thematic similarities are few and far between, only that I managed to fit them into my “busy” schedule of doom scrolls this past year.

January: “The Bell Jar” by Sylvia Plath 

It’s now the turn of the New Year. You’re going to go to the gym every day, marvel at the snow and get a head start on your classes. This or the minute hand on the clock will do two 360s before you realize the sun has set and you spent the afternoon sideways staring at the wall (and has that poster always been lopsided?). At one point in this novel, the main character, Esther, gives way to this all-too-familiar feeling, disengaging entirely from the outside world. Her mental paralysis stems from another hearkening relatability in her chronic indecisiveness surrounding her future. As deadlines approach for summer internships and different academic majors, clarity surrounding your career gets increasingly necessary, and decisions must be made. Plath has beautiful prose for the overwhelming nature of these decisions, providing an almost cathartic experience. After exploring and agonizing over these feelings, the main character recovers in the end, showing some of the hope and resilience required to get through January. So, take a breath and remember that you are doing the best you can.

February: “The Secret History” by Donna Tartt

It’s okay to romanticize February. This book follows a college student, Richard Papen, as he joins an exclusive Greek club at the fictional Hampden College. Hampden has its fair share of similarities to Notre Dame (Northern, relatively small, liberal arts) and then a few differences (students commit homicide). Now, midterms are ramping up. You haven’t seen the sun in weeks. It’s okay to turn homicidal in February. Actually, it’s not OK, but we understand. Despite the dark plot, the main character identifies his fatal flaw as a deep need to romanticize each aspect of his life, the central subject being college. He describes the snow on campus, the dorms, the architecture and the classes with flowery language, painting beautiful pictures. After consuming the book, some of these thought processes are translated into the reader. The snow can be aesthetic if you choose to look at it that way. In February, a little idealization can go a long way. 

March: “The Unbearable Lightness of Being” by Milan Kundera

Before coming to Notre Dame, my dad told me that “spring in the Midwest feels like being reborn.” I never quite understood what that meant until I experienced it. March comes in and out of dark and light, cold and warm. But, that first day of sun is unlike any other. It washes over you, as if the winter never happened in the first place. Within this book, the main characters are unlikable and yet so emotionally human it leaves you contemplative. This duality, to me, perfectly captures the stilled feeling of the approaching spring in March. You feel thawed out, as though your essence were threaded clean through. If uninclined to read the entire book, the first two segments are extremely short and worth the time.

 So, whether in January’s uncertainty, February’s daydreams, or March’s renewal, try to let a book comfort you. Or scroll Instagram Reels. Either is fine.

The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.