When We Fell In Love – Heather Brittain Bergstrom

I grew up in eastern Washington in a fundamentalist Baptist church and unaccredited basement school where secular books were literally banned, as well as rock music, movies, TV, and pants for females. The county library was as off limits as the local tavern. The library, I’d been warned, was full of pornography and atheist manifestos—and to top it off, a totem pole had been erected by the door, which only proved the place was heathen. So what was my favorite book growing up? The Bible. I loved the stories in the Old Testament, especially Ruth’s story and Esther’s and Hannah’s. I loved King David and Joseph and Jonah. Although a skeptic who had to be baptized many times, I faithfully read from the Book of Psalms for comfort each night before bed. The language and metaphors lulled me. Song of Solomon became more intriguing with each passing year.

When I moved to California and started junior college I was drawn to English classes. In particularly, I was drawn to Shakespeare and the masters of southern literature (Faulkner, Welty, Williams, O’Connor). The language was similar to the Bible, and the biblical reference were bountiful. I became hooked on literature and started to devour it. I had much catching up to do—yes, even at a junior college level.

My three favorite novels, the ones I continue to read over and over, are The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James, Tess of the d’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy, and Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. Three old white guys, I know! But their understanding of the female psyche is so impressive. All three books break my heart. Portrait is probably my all-time-favorite novel, even if every time I arrive at the ending and Isabel’s pride sends her back to Rome, I almost throw the book across the room and swear to the heavens that I’m never going to read it again. I think about Isabel Archer and her cousin Ralph Touchett probably on a daily basis. They are simply a part of my life. I think about Anna and can’t breathe. I think about Angel and Tess in that abandoned house and my joints ache. I have been deeply affected by these books. I can’t say they have influenced my writing style. They didn’t turn me into an author. But they are definitely my enduring loves. I treasure them, and, in fact, refuse to read them as a writer, looking at craft, studying character development. Instead, I indulge in them as a human being and lover of books.

James Baldwin is another writer beloved by me. I believe someone famous once called Baldwin “the great lover of humanity.” I agree. “Sonny’s Blues” is my all time favorite short story—and it is a huge shame that John Updike chose to leave it out of The Best American Short Stories of the Century. Here is one of my favorite quotes by James Baldwin: “Love takes off the masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within. I use the word ‘love’ here not merely in the personal sense but as a state of being, or a state of grace—not in the infantile American sense of being made happy but in the tough and universal sense of quest and daring and growth.” I no longer read psalms for comfort. When I feel downtrodden, I read Emily Dickinson poems and essays by Baldwin and Orwell.

I never dreamed of being a writer as a child. I wanted to be a Christian missionary to Africa—mostly to get the hell away from my hometown and church. I had full intentions of running away with the natives once I got there.

As far as authors who have influenced me as a writer, here is the short list: Richard Ford, Alice Munro, Louise Erdrich, Sam Shepard, Ray Carver, and Jhumpa Lahiri.

I once asked my non-literary husband if he were stranded in the jungle or on a desert island what book he’d want with him. My first choice, I told him, was the Bible, then the collected plays of Shakespeare, then Dickinson. He said, “A survivor guidebook.”