People were stupid, sometimes. They thought the Library was a dangerous place because of all the magical books, but what made it really dangerous was the simple fact that it was a library. — Terry Pratchett
I’m a Brit living in England. On 23 June 2016 my country voted narrowly to leave the European Union. The formal process of leaving the EU began in March the following year.
Up until this point I had never really thought about my European citizenship. My country had been in the European Union for the whole of my life, the rights it bestowed upon me had seemed the most everyday things, to be enjoyed without thinking about it, taken as your due without expecting that they would ever be lost.
It’s easy to focus on the privileges, the right to move to another state, to travel visa free with no encumbrance from customs. But there’s something else I feel missing when I consider my country’s future outside the Union: the sense of belonging to something bigger, a federation of countries, cooperating across national boundaries. A connection with the citizens of other EU states that would be severed the moment my country left the fold.
It’s difficult to put this ineffable feeling into words, far harder to bridge the gap with those who do not feel the same. I deeply respect the views of family, friends and fellow countrymen who voted to leave; in my personal experience they were driven by frustration at the failures of the political and bureaucratic EU institutions and the fear that they were losing sovereignty in their own country. Many remainers may feel similarly. But, to me, the EU was the same as my own state: something to be fought for and reformed, because I cared for and felt part of it. I still do.
My country has always been guilty of a peculiarly insular public discourse. I have barely any knowledge of the EU institutions and only a smattering of European history. I know little of the former Eastern bloc, the enigmatic north or the smaller principalities and islands. I can hardly appreciate the rich and varied history of the different states, whose borders have morphed and given rise to entirely new nations over the course of the 1900s. I could not even name every state in the European Union until a few months ago. I could not speak fluently to any of them in their own language.
Britain’s national conversation focuses entirely on how we might have voted, or how we might feel, about that stupid day in June 2016. It dominates our discussions and clouds our thoughts. Maddened by this I decided, one day, that if I were to lose my EU citizenship I could at least seek to learn something about the countries with which my own was once united.
There are many ways of doing this: I chose books. The simple version of the challenge is to read a book from every EU country. The complicated version is that I wanted the book to be from the 20th or 21st centuries, written by someone from the country (not a travelogue or a foreigner’s view), and – most importantly – that I wanted it to teach me something about that place, no matter how small.
Up to now this reading list has usually fulfilled my conditions, sometimes it hasn’t. But even those books which haven’t fully met the brief have still been worthwhile to read. For though they have not all taught me facts and history about a country they have usually told a deeply human story, or made me think about things a different way, and I have no better reason for reading than this.
In many ways this exercise has gone beyond some journey into my fading EU citizenship. Many of the books I’ve chosen were written before the European Union ever existed, they demonstrate the deep links between all the countries of Europe and that our history is far greater and more momentous than we who are caught up in the current European turmoil might appreciate.
I cannot describe how nice it’s been to approach my European friends and colleagues for recommendations and to discuss something other than Brexit. I have been spoiled by their excellent suggestions. I’m ashamed that my lack of a foreign language and limited access to translated books has constrained me and ruled out too many brilliant looking options which are either out of print or not available in English. But I am trying my best and enjoying the journey. As I go I will post my reviews, musings or pent up frustrations. If anyone wants to join me, you are welcome.
The European Reader 