Maybe not bawl, but at least tear up. I can only remember two, both children’s books:
The Lion the Witch, and the Wardrobe, right after the White Witch killed Aslan. I was only twelve at the time I read it, but the whole concept of such a momentous sacrifice really shook me.
Bridge to Teribithia. Not the part where the girl dies, which was bad enough. But the very last page, where the protaganist is sitting in his private space, and dreams of inviting a new queen into his realm. It was such a profound portrayal or loss, it made me think of everyone I had ever lost in my life.
The very first book that made me cry was Primrose Day by Carolyn Heywood. I must have been 7 or 8. It’s about a girl who is sent from England to stay with relatives in the US during World War II. When her birthday, which was always celebrated with primroses comes, and she thinks they don’t have primroses in America…
Where the Red Fern Grows, when the two dogs die. I hate when animals are killed.
Also, the end of Cujo (not JUST the dog this time). It was just so bleak. A few others by Stephen King have done it for me, too…Christine was depressing and The Shining too.
One of the few was Thomas Hardy’s “The Mayor of Casterbridge,” in which the title character dies, alone and despised, after trying his best to do the right thing, and make amends for his past.
It’s divided into three narratives, each from the p.o.v of a different sibling in one family living in Vancouver’s Chinatown in the first half of the last century. The first section, from the youngest child’s point of view, is light and very funny. The middle section is still funny in parts, but an element of seriousness begins to creep in. The last section rips your heart out, it’s so tragic.
I’ve bought four copies of this book, and I don’t have one on my own bookshelf-- it’s one of those “You’ve got to read this!” books. I can’t resist pressing it on passers-by. Come to think of it, I think it’s about time I read it again.
The day we were assigned to read Hemingway’s “A Farewell to Arms” in my American Literature class in college, our professor told us a story about the first time he read it. He had been on scholarship at Harvard as a tennis player. As an athlete, he’d been able to waltz through school without spending much time on class assignments, and as a result, had never actually read a novel. Largely because of “student”-athletes like him, Harvard embroiled in a debate on whether it should continue to award athletic scholarships, which were thought to water down the institution’s academic standards.
Shortly after beginning classes his freshman year, my professor was assigned “A Farewell to Arms” for his freshman literature class. He thought he’d read the book to see what all the hubbub was about. So he found a dark and private corner of the library and started reading. And then a strange thing happened – he couldn’t put it down. He read the entire book, cover to cover, in a single sitting. And at the end [SPOILER ALERT!], when the heroine dies, he found himself crying.
Unfortunately for my professor, a photographer for the student newspaper had seen him reading the book, and was there with his camera. When he started crying, the photographer began taking pictures. The next day, the front page of the student newspaper included a picture of my professor crying into his book, and featured the headline, “Does Harvard Want Students Like This On Scholarship?”
As for me, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and Where the Red Fern Grows both made me cry, but Bridge to Terebethia practically traumatized me.
Where the Red Fern Grows is the first book I remember making me just bawl. I don’t remember how old I was.
To Kill a Mockingbird really did me in, too. When Scouts brother (for the life of me I can’t remember his name… shame on me!) had to read the book to the old lady, and Atticus finally explained what was really going on… for some reason just made me really sad. When the guy was finally prosecuted, I cried just out of frustration. I was about 8th grade, and it was just so unfair. I had no other emotional way to deal with it I think. I just started crying…
For me, The Moon is a Harsh Mistress makes me misty every time. And, just recently, The Remains of the Day, where Stevens is relating the story about how he showed so much dignity at the dinner, which makes him think he was possibly a great butler. And then he just… continues on.
I hope that was oblique enough for everyone who hasn’t read it, if not, please forgive.
I’ve cried at only two books: “Where the Red Fern Grows”, and a line at the end of “The Reader” by Bernhard Schlink (SPOILER: when Michael has to identify Hannah’s body in the prison morgue) that goes something like:
“So this must be what happens with old couples - the husband looks at the wife and sees the young girl within her, and the wife sees the young man inside the old one…”
I kept thinking of what would happen if my sweetie and I were old and had to see each other die - I bawled like crazy!
I remember being in ninth grade and finishing The Catcher in the Rye while I was waiting for my first-period class to start. For some reason (I can’t even remember the ending now), I thought it was the saddest thing I’d ever read and had to leave the room, and skip class, before I started crying.
More recently, I was just miserable throughout the whole last half of The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. By the end of it, it felt like I wanted to cry but I was just too miserable even to do that.
I suppose it’s kind of silly, but I was really upset (can’t remember if I leaked) when Sturm died in Dragonlance. I really didn’t read much fantasy other than that series, and I was really attached to the Heroes of the Lance. ;.;
I hate when animals are killed.