Coming of Age with Huck Finn

In his Lectures on Literature, Vladimir Nabokov states: "Curiously enough, one cannot read a book; one can only reread it. A good reader, a major reader, and active and creative reader is a rereader."

Essentially, this quote boils down to: "You don't get the full picture the first time you read something. Read it again. You'll pick up on some things you may have missed the first time around."

In theory, this is an awesome idea, especially for books that you liked the first time; chances are you'll like them even more the second time. But, what about books that you did not like the first time? Why would you go back and read those again? Unless you enjoy misery and frustration, you probably wouldn't. Thankfully, that's what school is for: making you do things you think you will not like in the hopes that 1) you will like it, and 2) that you will get something useful out of it.

Enter: The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain. Nabokov's quote fluttered in my mind as soon as I saw Twain's classic on my class syllabus (thank you, Dr. Neil Easterbrook, for instilling this quote in my brain for life). I did not like Huck Finn the first time I read it at the oh-so-mature-and-wise age of 15. I was turned off to the main character, for I found Huck to be generally naive, foolish, and difficult (probably hit too close to home for me). The story was long, meandering, involved too many shenanigans and too much water, and ended so abruptly and mildly annoyingly that I could not enjoy it. I thought Tom Sawyer was the most aggravating character ever to appear on a page. Also, the multitude of dialects that required deciphering was almost too much for my developing brain to handle.

So, when I found out I had to read this "classic" again, I groaned audibly. Just like any other school assignment, though, I would tackle it, and hope that I would like it even a fraction more than I did the first time. And I did.

Now, some of my opinions on Huck Finn have not changed. I still find Tom Sawyer to be irritating beyond compare, the ending is still a letdown to some degree, and sometimes I would have rather read straight English than whatever was coming out of the mouths of some of the characters. The second time reading Twain's masterpiece, however, I found an authenticity to it that I did not previously. Yes, the dialects can be frustrating, but they are also real, unique, and captivating. The shenanigans are not just silly pranks but are symbolic of boyhood wonder and adventurousness. The story may meander, but does life not do the same, both doing so in ways that are almost impossible to predict?

The water, specifically, took on a new meaning for me upon my second reading, as did Huck Finn himself. I had driven across the Mississippi River once before I read Huck Finn the first time; after crossing it half a dozen more times since then, I have come to appreciate the "mighty" in the river's nickname. The Mississippi is truly a masterpiece of nature, a spectacle of water and its power. In the novel, the river represents freedom, the freedom we all seek, and a journey, life's journey. It twists and turns, rushes and slows, becomes foggy and can be crystal clear. There is debris, and there are straight paths. Most importantly, it is a pathway for all, not a few.

I also finally admitted that Huck Finn is me. Huck Finn changes as much between the covers of the book as I have in the four years since last reading the book. He grows up. He matures. He learns. He faces challenges; he rejoices in victories. He makes friends and he makes enemies. He is me, he is many, if not all, of us, just set in a time, place, and situation we hardly understand.

Re-reading, then, was a blessing in disguise for me as I absorbed The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn a second time. I did catch some things I missed the first time, and I did come to like Huck Finn as a whole. It is curious enough, how one cannot truly read a book, but only re-read it.