Personal Narrative: My Life In Salem

When I took off the top to that white box on that calm Sunday night, I was instantly transported into this astounding library, that seemed to come out of a movie scene, rows upon rows were piled up with Verne’s, Dumas’, Stevenson’s, and Melville’s. Each week I would open this box and choose a new book. It wasn’t long until weeks turned to days, and I began to greedily treasure my Stevenson’s, truly value friendship with Dumas, prepare for an adrenaline rush with Verne, but most importantly, it was my single Melville that brought me the pinnacle of happiness.

Throughout all of time, literature has played an important role in people’s lives. Books are more than just stories to laugh at, cry with, or fall asleep to, but books can teach. Books can teach a person a simple task such as baking cookies or an extremely complex one such as solving for the derivative of a trigonometric path and its parabolic motion. Whatever the subject, whomever the reader, books can teach people many lessons. One of the most important lessons that a book can teach a reader is a lesson about himself, about the difficulties of life, and about living a good life. As time has passed, so has literature itself. Older books focused on historical events, fictional poetry, and important figures; however, books now have evolved to

I do not believe the town of Salem or the county is as safe as it was when I was growing up. Everyone seems to know everyone in each town in the county. I grew up in a little town called Hardinsburg and at Halloween, I love to tell the story that we walked down each street in the town and received homemade cookies, fruit, and candy. The best part of this story no one was afraid that we would be hurt or anything we were given would be harmful to us. As kids we knew we could not do, anything wrong or our parents would know about it before we got home. My parent’s biggest worry when I was at school, was why the bus was late. They did not worried about the pickup trucks with guns in the gun racks in the school parking lot or at the drive-in movies. I grew in a house with guns, I was taught guns were not toys and if you kept your finger off of the trigger, they did not just go off. Now it is not

All writers have to develop a love for the written word at some point in their lives. For some the point is an exact point that they can pinpoint and for others they have loved literature for their entire lives. Eudora Welty was a semi-successful writer but her memoir is considered one of her better books. In an exert of her memoir, titled “One Writer’s Humble Beginnings”, she writes of how she loved books for as long as she can remember and her mother’s influence on that infatuation. In her memoir Eudora Welty writes of the impact of adult and especially parental figures on a child and uses rhetorical language in isolated scenes to convey that message.

In an age where the printed novel has been somewhat on the decline, and the necessity of readable fiction has almost faded into obscurity. I believe that literature still harbours a crucial part within our society; from the very foundations of most theatrical adaptations, to preserving the culture and encapsulating the feelings of generations past. In this case literature cements itself as one of the most decisive elements of our civilisation, and combining it with history makes it become a testament to who we are as people, as well as the conservation of both our progression and degradation. I have always enjoyed reading literature, from reading J.R.R Tolkien’s classic ‘Lord of the Rings’ trilogy within my childhood, to perhaps more sophisticated,

The thin rustic pages scrape past my loose fingers as I sit engaged. My heart pounds harder and faster with every word my eyes pass over. My ears hear nothing, even within booming noise. My complete focus is on the book that lays in my hand with a laminated cover, and I have no choice but to submit to the content. My breath tastes of spearmint and the aroma of fresh paper floats past my nose. I couldn’t resist but delve into the worlds and mysteries that books hold. Once opened, everything around me becomes a distant blur. I am hooked. Books have always created an escape for creativity and fancies to run free. Books are used as a medium for reason. Books are formative to the development of human beings. In my instance, books changed my life.

My mom signed me up for the community library when I just turned 6 years old. Even if I did not know how to properly read at the time, I had to go there every afternoon to keep myself busy as an only child. Being opened to books at such an early clearly has had a major impact on my life and personality. From the local tales of my beloved Senegalese society to the deep and sophisticated French literature, I have traveled through cultures and generations. Whether it is Emile Zola’s collection of novels or Albert Camus’s philosophical texts, these books raised me and taught me about life, love, and resilience. As times went by, reading was no more a regular pastime but a detrimental part of my existence. The lessons and morality I gained from each story always pushed me to challenge the status quo, to be curious, to be adventurous but most importantly to be a problem solver.

It may be cliché, but books have always held a spot close to my heart. When I was three I had a book called Bitsy Witch that went wherever I did. When I was seven, my mom read a chapter of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone every night. In middle school, I worked my way through the entire children’s section at my local library. In high school, I took every English class offered, and when I entered college I to compromise with my family that I would also pursue a pre-professional program. My time outside of class was spent on my pre-professional degree until, my senior year in college. I took two classes that focused on children’s and young adult texts. Before those classes, I hadn’t realized that specializing in Children’s literature was

The Salem Witchcraft Trials were part of an important time in colonial history. Taking place in 1692, the trials were triggered by a group of girls gathering to read palms.

As Welty describes one experience from the library that gave her value’s as an adult; “You could take out two books at a time and two books only; this applied as long as you were a child and also for the rest of your life to.” This shows me how the librarian’s rules of the library had influenced her values of reading as a child and as an adult.

My hometown of Winston-Salem, North Carolina is an industrial city built on tobacco, textiles manufacturing and Krispy Kreme donuts. In many ways, Winston is a relic of a South that I’ve never identified with — my parents are from D.C. and New Jersey, and they taught me to never put sugar in iced tea. Growing up, I didn’t understand how there could be 47 distinct country songs about a truck or why people panicked about having to drive on one inch of snow. More seriously, I resented the people who still flew confederate flags or who told me to lock my doors when I drove to high school in east Winston.

Throughout my life, I have been at odds with the literary world. I could never find it in myself to sit down and enjoy poetry or short stories, penned by the literary visionaries of yore. However, even I must begrudgingly admit that there is great value in these works of literature through the lessons and messages they communicate, as is evidenced by the myriad of societal changes which have been forged by the pen of a novelist. Literature has done a lot for me, such as giving me new perspective on politics and propaganda, entertaining me, and offering the ability to view the world through the philosophical perspective of the author. Though I may not derive much amusement from the perusal of books, there is no questioning the immense value

Jack also liked exploring books. His mother and father loved to read, and they saved all their books. They filled the New House with books – books in the study, in bedrooms, and on the stair landing, books in the attic piled up to Jack’s shoulders.

Once there was a girl named Salem. She lived in the outskirts of a town filled with beautiful people. She never went out because she thought she was not as beautiful as the rest of the town. She loved the town with all her heart.

For someone who doesn’t know how to fight, I’m not losing as bad as I imagined. Sure, I’m getting my butt kicked, but at least I’m learning and that’s what’s important. Though, I wish learning wasn’t so painful. I sit up, panting hard. My face is red and partly bruised. My entire body is hot and sticky. I want to stop and take a break, but Thorn’s not about to let me stop when she’s barely broken a sweat.