Sinclair Lewis’s Arrowsmith. We were assigned the book in high school, and I hated it. I thought that the title character was an abrasive, indecisive prima-donna jerk-off who pined his way through the whole book about how he couldn’t find his special purpose or whatever, like it was that hard. He went through bad relationships and interacted with shallow and bitter friends, and he couldn’t seem to make up his mind about what he wanted to do until the very end. As if it were so difficult to figure out! :rolleyes:
Fifteen years later, I read the book again in my early 30’s, and suddenly, after my pining, and goal-changing, and confusion, not to mention my own failed relationships, I understood Martin Arrowsmith quite a bit more. I still thought he was an abrasive prima-donna, and I vastly preferred his mentor Max Gottlieb, but damn, after watching all of my prospective futures just melt away during my 20’s and coming face to face with how fallible and short-sighted I could be, I certainly empathized with Martin to a degree I would not have thought possible at 17.
