Changing

I've been thinking about my goal to read one hundred books this year.  Mostly because we're fourteen weeks in to 2014 and I've only read twelve books.  It's not looking good.  Other things I have not done consistently this year are keep in touch and mop my floor.  These are important, but have somehow been shifted to the side.  All that is over today because sticky floors are depressing, chatting with friends makes me smile, and books have changed my life.  Especially some books.

Housekeeping forced me to realise that my ideas of normal are just that,  my ideas.  And Gilead left me both warmed and in shock.
I am conflicted about heavy swearing in literature.  But Poppy Shakespeare asks priceless questions about mental illness including, "Is sane even a thing?"
I can't even say why Children of the Day means so much to me except that it sliced through me and I feel fierce loyalty to it.
Ethan Frome is short and perfect.

Actually, there are others.  Anything I've read by George Eliot, Margaret Atwood, Jane Austen, or Charlotte Bronte has forced me to think and live differently.  How does that happen?

*Have you been changed by a book?  Tell me in the comments section.*