Read a Book Today: The 2000s are back and the world is scary — it’s time for a reread

In an attempt to exert the little control I have over the world, I decided to clean my childhood bedroom over winter break. If we have been in Zoom meetings together at any point, this room likely left an impact on you. In fact, I have had people on campus come up to me and say, “You’re Rachel with the blue room, right?” The room’s walls are a Powerade teal that I chose when I was 10, decorated with a too-large bookshelf and travel prints and it’s small — typical in Los Angeles. As I was sorting through my stack of mass-market paperbacks in said blue room, trying not to think about the state of the world, I found a yellow tome. 

“Tome” might be an exaggeration, but it was a relatively comprehensive collection of “Curious George” stories, all printed in the mid-’90s. I was struck by how much I remembered as I leafed through the pages, debating if I should donate it. It was like the stories had been taking up the space in my brain which might have been better used on my finals last semester. It’s bizarre how a story can stick with you, no matter how long ago you read it, and how it can be a comfort. If you were to quiz me on some of the lines from any of the books I read as a kid, I’d probably remember them. I could be a “Geronimo Stilton” encyclopedia. 

Life right now is scary (even beyond the usual stressors) and uncertainty reigns. Maybe that was why I felt a sort of contentment wash over me when I remembered those storylines and illustrations. Maybe this is an instance of old events coming back en vogue, à la Bennifer. I’m now used to seeing the small sunglasses and velour pants reminiscent of the once-ubiquitous Juicy tracksuit as I walk around town and campus. If it weren’t for the pandemic and the fact that “Fearless” and “Red” have been re-recorded to become Taylor’s versions, I would think that I was back in a world where “Single Ladies” was the number one song. So, if the world is scary, look to old comforts; I have some in mind. 

First, let’s talk “Percy Jackson” — I’ve never read “Harry Potter,” save your shock — but I adored the “Percy Jackson and the Olympians” series. Percy and I were besties. I remember saving all of the old-fashioned Tumblr-style memes from vintage Instagram fan accounts to my camera roll — is this exposing myself too much? Anyway, that’s all to say that the stories are still aging like fine wine and are as endearing as they were when you first read them. The books don’t take themselves too seriously, and Riordan knows where his strengths lie. It is likely because of his skills that the original five-novel series ballooned to twice that length with a spinoff series “Heroes of Olympus” (Bonus points to you if you read it). 

The feat of creating a fleshed-out series with 3D characters that withstand the test of time is commendable, resulting in the story’s very well-received Broadway musical adaptation and television show currently in development— not to mention that the characters have been featured in films that the fanbase chooses to ignore. The dialogue is masterful, witty and voice-filled, and I’d bet that even today, you’d remember the individual personalities of Annabeth, Percy and Grover. I found my much-adored “Percy Jackson” series as I went through my bookshelves. My original copy of the series — that I have now carried with me for 10 years — is well-loved and dog-eared, especially on the pages where 12-year-old me found a line that she liked. And, of course, you better believe that I picked up the anniversary edition. I made sure it is prominently displayed on the favorites section of my shelf. 

Back in the olden days, at the same time as I had exhausted the Riordan-verse, I happened upon the renaissance of young adult literature, and it promptly overtook my brain. We rarely talk about just how lucky the 2012-era cohort of young adult readers was with this barrage of dystopian novels. The main thing on my mind is the “Hunger Games” series. I remember passing magazine stands and seeing the collector’s edition magazines advertising a dark-haired Jennifer Lawrence (before the Oscars fall) and a pre-marriage Liam Hemsworth. 

Being the good reader that I am, I devoured the entire book before I saw the film in theaters. In a marathon reading session in the aforementioned blue room, I finished the novel in a single day. I recently reread the book (rewatching the film is also on my list), and I was surprised at how much I remembered. I was suddenly struck by the memory of dressing up as Katniss Everdeen for the holiday of Purim. I remembered donning a black rain jacket and attaching a Mockingjay pin to it. I did the signature single braid, and I felt like the coolest kid out there (for reference on how cool it seems in hindsight, no one will ever see the photographs. I’ve exposed myself enough in this column). I was equally surprised to revisit the careful annotations of iconic lines done by my 12-year-old self. 

This is a more maudlin column than I planned on writing. Maybe it’s the startling realization that it is my final semester before I graduate from USC, or perhaps the nostalgia from sorting through decades of books got to me. Nevertheless, I think that we could all use a bit of comfort right now, and maybe it’s worth imagining that this is your A24 coming-of-age film realization moment — such as the time when Lady Bird calls her mom, or when Rachel Bernstein goes through the books of her childhood bedroom — still her bedroom today because she’s a commuter (very A24). Get a little bit maudlin, you’ve earned it!