My Awakening

A young adult's life is filled with monumental experiences. Many of which occur on a stumbling path to adulthood and independence. Along this road, you are faced with decisions that shape your character, your identity. In my time as a young adult, I have experienced revelations, big and small, ranging from my favorite foods to inherent beliefs.

It is not often that on this path we are given literature to relate to and feel through. This particularly special experience is heightened when shared with others, who, like myself, just recently graduated from university. Or they are making their way to graduation.

When feeling so utterly alone on this path to adulthood, it is difficult not to isolate yourself and walk alone. However, Bookpacking has forced me to sit with my thoughts, see my struggles as common and shared with my peers.

I felt seen in our first book, The Awakening by Kate Chopin, where her frank story of Edna Pontiller details a distinctly feminine experience. Which to me was exploring life beyond the roles of woman, mother, and wife, just as a person. Edna sought pleasure, happiness, and aimed to discern what gave her joy and independence. She did this not for her kids or her husband, but for herself.

In a world of boxes, labels, and roles, I often try to push the boundaries of ‘feminine’ of what it means to be ‘woman.’ I reject narratives and embrace my loud, opinionated personality as a way of personal protest. I love that I can be honest and advocate for myself and others, while also appreciating that these are personality traits born from privilege.

Edna, a woman of the late 19th century, did not have these privileges. But what is so transformative about The Awakening is how Edna's story and struggles live through time. Because of this, this particular reading, so very different from my traditional history textbooks, was entirely emotional and relatable. I felt as though I could understand Edna, who, through observation, could very well be an extension of Kate Chopin herself. The result of this was a growing appreciation of female authors and alternative female characters. As Edna’s ‘awakening’ felt so similar to my own.

At the beginning of the Bookpacking experience, my eight peers and I headed south to the Grand Isle of Louisiana. A place that, although it existed in my country, felt entirely foreign. For the first time in eight years, I saw outside of school, relationships, and work, and explored this strange island through Edna Pontieller.

I looked upon the same beaches that Edna lounged on, and although being familiar with oceans and beaches, having grown up on the coast of California, I can easily say that the sand, creatures, and flora all felt alien to me. Immediately shocked by the size of the mosquitoes that inhabit that region, I took it upon myself to appreciate every different bit of that small island. The fascinating people, strange houses, and different food, I could not believe how Louisianans dared to fry just about everything. And after tasting fried gator, oysters, and okra, I understood why. My worldview, imagination, and ability to truly see others have been forever altered.

If I had read The Awakening in my seaside home in Long Beach, California, the beach I would have pictured would have been far different. Coarser, darker sand, with sand fleas that nipped around your toes as you walked into the freezing water. In the distance on a clear day, you would easily see the Catalina Islands, which a ferry would take you to and from. In the ocean, you can see sea turtles, dolphins, as well as shrimp, which, if you were submerged, you could hear crackling underneath you.

Kate Chopin's Awakening, however, sets Edna in a wildly different beach; Grand Isle has a flat beach, where the waves are far more temperate. The wind and rain make one feel as though they are in a tropical storm, where the sand is white and soft. Facing the ocean, it looks as though it expands forever, making one feel completely and utterly alone. I often thought of Edna's death when staring at the ocean. Imagine the enthralling feeling of control and equally terrifying loss of control in such a powerful body of water.

“A feeling of exultation overtook her, as if some power of significant import had been given her to control the working of her body and her soul. She grew daring and reckless, overestimating her strength. She wanted to swim far out, where no woman had swum before”

— The Awakening, Kate Chopin (Chapter X)

In this place, I thought of the corners of the country that this water has touched along its journey throughout the Mississippi River. Sitting on that porch of the house on stilts, I could see her, Edna, walking along the beach as I did. During these days, I quickly became emotional, feeling both the relief of graduation as well as relating to Edna's journey. A journey that was so relatable, so real to the human experience.

I am sure to look back on these days as when I moved towards something new, something better, in my very own awakening. Inspired by Edna Pontieller, or really, Kate Chopin.

Exchanging Sunset for Sunrise

I can not remember any other time I felt like this. I do not remember the last time I sat outside in the sun and read a book. The sun and I have a complicated relationship. As someone who could rival Anne Rice’s Vampire in terms of having pale skin, the sun has always been to me the inconvenient cause of sunburn. I love the sun’s beauty at golden hour, and I love being outdoors, but my goodness, putting on sunscreen and intense heat can get annoying. Yet, there I was reading The Confederacy of Dunces, The Awakening, and writing this post on the porch of the house as the sun rose.

For the first time I can remember, it felt like I wasn’t reading for a class, but for fun. I do find it incredibly humorous that I am a Narrative Studies major (which falls under the English department) who doesn’t often read for fun. That’s why I love taking classes with assigned reading, it gives me the motivation to read books I otherwise would not. But as I’m reading Kate Chopin’s The Awakening, I feel motivated to keep reading, not because we have to discuss the story in a seminar later, but because I want to know what happens. I am interested in Enda’s journey, and above all else, I am having fun.

This discovery felt like I was in my own sort of awakening. However, unlike the main character Enda, who discovers love and liberation, ultimately to realise that she can’t live the life she wants in 1870s society, my awakening was much less life-or-death. Still, both our awakenings happen in a similar way, at the beaches of Grand Isle, in a slow, unceremonious way.

Image of sunrise at Grand Isle

While Edna swam to discover freedom, I read the book outside and on a couch. I made myself comfortable, I listened to the audiobook as I read along, and I became so relaxed that I needed to sit up to prevent myself from falling asleep. These actions are what led me to my awakening, but it wasn’t until the last day at Grand Isle that I made my full discovery.

If there is one thing you should know about me, it is that I am not a morning person; I am a night owl through and through. Yet, when someone suggested waking up early to watch the sunrise, I woke up at way too early o’clock to find that I was the only student sitting outside on the porch watching the sun rise. This is when I fully realized my awakening. The first part of this bookingpacking trip was about relaxing, and for the first time since last summer, I was fully and truly relaxed. And for the first time in recent memory, I was relaxed while doing work for a class. It is something about the bookpacking experience that allowed me to read with a sense of freedom and fun that Edna finds in the ocean. 

“[Edna] turned her face seaward to gather in an impression of space and solitude, which the vast expanse of water, meeting and melting with the moonlit sky, conveyed to her excited fancy. As she swam, she seemed to be reaching out for the unlimited in which to lose herself.”

— The Awakening by Kate Chopin

I have ADHD, Dyslexia, and Dyscalculia, which makes reading feel slightly daunting and draining at times. But there I was staying up late to read and waking up early to see the sun. Something that would never have happened without bookpacking. Bookpacking also improved my relationship with the sun. Because of how exciting travel can be, I don’t mind putting on sunscreen as much, and the ocean breeze helps with the heat.

Similarly to when Enda feels rushes of joy when she learns how to swim, she begins drawing again, and she buys her new cottage. I felt excitement and joy for our trips to the different spots on the island, even the drive was fun because of all the colorful houses. I was eager to hear what my classmates thought of the stories we were reading and excited to watch TV with them at night (even though horror is not my genre of choice). I became so in love with Grand Isle that I started building a home in Minecraft that was inspired by the beautiful and colorful architecture of the raised houses. I even started taking pictures of houses I liked on the way to the supermarket to use as reference photos.

There was a short moment when I became a little sad. It wasn’t because we were leaving Grand Isle, because I am more than excited to see New Orleans, but because I realized that I have been stressed and overloaded with things to do for so long. Like how Edna feels ennui, I felt that I had unintentionally been hurting myself by working on too many things, leading to massive burnout. I felt guilty because I had forgotten how to relax while also working on assignments. Although it is true that this semester I may have bit off more than I can chew, I have to give myself grace. Grand Isle has let me take a step back and reflect on my life, and at the end of the day, I’m a rising Junior who is still trying to master what is a manageable workload and discover what I want to do with my life. I may have a bit of guilt for pushing myself to the limit, but I am glad I am pursuing different paths to find what I like, love, and hate. And if it wasn’t for my adventurous attitude, I might have never gone bookpacking.

As someone who comes from a family of travelers and loves to travel, we have a saying: traveling changes you. I always assumed that the farther you were from home, the more you would learn and change. However, as I sit here in Grand Isle, still in the United States. I learned that it is not as much the distance that ushers change, but the experience. It is my first time bookpacking or doing anything like it. It has taught me to relax and to enjoy reading more than a normal trip to Grand Isle ever would. 

Have I Been Here Before?

The funny thing about travel is that a new place never feels like you expect. Touching down at MSY wasn’t some magical experience. It felt exactly like landing at LAX, or Newark, or any of the other array of beige American airports in which I’ve had the pleasure of spending time. It wasn’t until we all met up and stepped outside into the 92-degree Louisiana heat and humidity that I truly felt like I had left Los Angeles. After somehow fitting ten people, lots of very big suitcases (including mine), and an excessive amount of groceries into a white sprinter van reminiscent of every kidnapping movie I’ve ever seen, we were off to Grand Isle.

We drove through strips of marsh, swampland, and seemingly endless sugar fields. Cyprus trees were draped in swaths of Spanish moss, giving the entire scenery a distinctly eerie (albeit beautiful) air. I was once again struck by the desire to compare this drive to places I’ve been before. The swamps were like the road trips I had done from Vermont to the Maine coast, always keeping my eyes peeled for moose (though now it was alligators I was trying to find). The palm trees brought back Los Angeles and the Spanish moss a childhood trip to Florida. As we drove further and the trees began to become more sparse, the water more expansive, roads level with the marsh around us. Once again, I was reminded of somewhere else – driving through the Netherlands, a country where I’ve spent a significant amount of time, a flat expanse of canals and farmland. If not for the lack of windmills, southern Louisiana might as well have been the A4 highway. 

This habit of comparing went on and on and on as the first day passed. Everywhere I turned in Grand Isle, I was reminded of areas in New England — Maine here, rural New Hampshire there, the town in Vermont in which I used to take violin lessons. It began to grate at my nerves. Why was everything a reminder of something else? I wanted to enjoy this experience, feel grounded in this place and time, yet everywhere I looked I was reminded of the past. 

Time itself seems to move differently on a place like Grand Isle. It doesn’t run a straight path – it swells, stretches, and congeals again into a sticky haze. The first day bled into the second and the third, and most of my memories muddy together. I do remember, however, my first time on the beach. It was evening, which meant the humidity that had so intensely permeated the air before had lessened, replaced by a refreshing warm breeze coming off of the sea. It was picturesque by any definition, and yet once again I felt in the back of my mind something missing, a certain lack of satisfaction that comes from a completely new experience.

This changed, however, once I began to read Kate Chopin’s The Awakening. Set in Grand Isle in the 1870s, the book describes the atmosphere of the island with the same reverence Chopin attributes to her characters. 

“The sea was quiet now, and swelled lazily in broad billows that melted into one another and did not break except upon the beach in little foamy crests that coiled back like slow, white serpents.
”

— The Awakening, Kate Chopin (pg 70)

Chopin describes the island as “a delicious picture I just wanted to sit and look at (pg 41).” If I had been reading this book from my apartment in LA, I would have pictured something completely different from the isle I was now on — clear skies, cerulean water, colonial-style beach houses lining the streets, cypress trees swaying in a cooling breeze. It was interesting to reconcile this mental image with what I was actually seeing: houses raised on stilts, buildings still wrecked from hurricane Ida, tractors and ATVs as common as cars, swampy mosquito-infested marshlands. Nor was this mental image similar to the original comparisons I’d made of the island, not to Maine, rural Vermont, or California beach towns. While reading the book, I went out to the porch of our house (nicknamed, for some inexplicable reason, ‘H2O Psycho’) and sat facing the waves. Every time I came to a description of the island, especially the ocean, I would look up and try to recognize Kate Chopin’s novel in my field of vision. While significantly slowing down my reading process, I found myself enjoying the experience of understanding a book this way. I was no longer seeing Grand Isle through my own eyes, through every place I’d ever seen before in my life. I was seeing through the eyes of Edna Pontellier, and the place I was seeing was the same one that changed her fundamentally, ‘woke her up.’ I began to sense the “seductive odor of the sea… the sight of the water stretching so far away, those motionless sails against the blue sky.” This wasn’t the past, or if it was, it certainly wasn’t my past. Reading through Edna’s eyes helped to ground me in the present moment, something I desperately craved after my chaotic last month in LA. Like Edna, I was here on this island at this moment. When I went swimming again in the sea, my arms outstretched in the direction of the horizon, I thought about Edna’s experience with the water in the book, the desire she has to go further and keep swimming, and then I thought about my own. I felt the warm water, the sand underneath my feet, and finally, I felt like I was truly there. 

Here Goes The Awakening...

I remember in High School, I bought myself a book a day and placed it squarely on the corner of my desk. Proud and always eager to read it. A new novel or short story every single week, oftentimes a different one every other week. In college, I couldn’t tell you the number of books I’ve read for my own enjoyment unfortunately. And that saddens me tremendously. And then 2026 came along and I read Project Hail Mary, recognizing the love I had for the novel once more. That was in January. I started reading another book I never finished, Once Upon A Time In Hollywood. I read it intermittently in January, in February, and in March and still have yet to finish it. All of a sudden, here we are. The Awakening by Kate Chopin, finished in two days. Interview With The Vampire, finished in four days (one of which I stayed mostly in the hotel.) To be back in the midst of literature warms my heart and excites my childish spirit, something I’ve been internally begging myself to do for years now. And it feels so good. But let's rewind.

I have no expectations. Stepping off the flight and into New Orleans, I knew not what to expect. Walking down that terminal, picking up my luggage, awaiting others. I possessed this nervous energy. Feeling that pit in your stomach when you don’t know what the hell you're doing but you can’t go back. And then I saw Andrew, and we were off for the races. And what a wonderful introduction it was having not been able to attend or take part in any pleasantries nor meetings. I had no sense of who anybody was, fully just immersing myself instantaneously. For better or worse, I didn’t know. But I immediately felt welcomed and as more of the group trickled in, started to get a better sense of who I’d be surrounding myself with for the better part of a month. What a lovely group it was, would be the first and last of its kind for me in this particular setting and program and that excited me more.

We somehow lugged everything inside very strategically (tetris) and we were off! And my god, what a sight for sore eyes. A radically new biome (for Sadie) and landscape, something completely foreign to me. Marshes, swamps, bayous, wtf? Mind you, I myself grew up surrounded by mountainous regions, scorching heat of 120 degrees, frigid, cold temperatures in the nighttime and snow only 3 times in the 15 to 20 years I’ve lived there. All my life, I knew the desert. Louisiana was something else entirely. A whole lot of firsts for me. And as we rode, I was just sitting in awe. My mouth an ‘O’. Riding that lengthy highway, viewing the endless stretches of marshland and swampland for all the eye could see. Subconsciously preparing myself for the landscapes that these upcoming novels would feature. Becoming excitedly so. In my mind, constantly inquiring how this land was made inhabitable at ALL. How in the heck did they construct these extensive bridges of miles upon miles upon miles of roads? It fascinated me greatly, my architectural mind going 100 mph.

And so arriving at the Grand Isle, it completely subverted my expectations in how calm it was. How utterly quiet it was if you were to step outside and breathe in the air for a moment. Nothing but bugs chittering about. I could immediately see myself living here if not for the underlying politics that no doubt invaded the area. Case in point, the many American flags hung high and proud, a couple of Confederate flags passed by. Republican signs stuck into the ground almost like a huge arrow saying ‘AVOID. AVOID. AVOID.’ Despite that, I could feel the pull of the water. Much like that of Edna in The Awakening, that constant magnetic pull to the water. Almost like we belong solely there.

When I tell you, the feeling of sitting on the balcony in a short and sandals. Darkly, cloudy weather looming about as the wind picks up speed every once in a while. It was the perfect setting to read such an older novel set in a time long forgotten, long disappeared. And I couldn’t help but think of the homes, the buildings, communities made extinct by the ever-rising water, the many floods and tides over the past centuries. Entire histories erased and made to be combed over. Much like that of Edna, I feel. Or put it simply, the many hopeful lives of women teeming with life and ambitions and goals made extinct because of the societal expectations set upon them because of their own gender. The redundant belief that they must give birth to a child, care for their children, live in the captivity of their own home, setting aside their own dreams to fit themselves neatly into this unfair box called womanhood alongside a (usually) unloving husband.

Which is why I found it absolutely astounding this depiction of Edna that is so rich and unapologetically honest in its portrayal of someone breaking away from social norms and struggling to separate themself from all that tethers her to the world. And to be honest with you, why wouldn’t you want to do so in New Orleans & the Grand Isle? It feels almost as if distant from society altogether, in a quiet world of its own absent of expectations and law. As I read through the novel, I could visualize these descriptions of the Grand Isle so clearly as if I could place myself in the grand narrative. I could hear these private conversations between Edna and Adèle on the beachside front, can feel the calming effect of the waves, and hear the chirping of birds and seagulls. Considering I am very much a visual learner, I felt it enlivened my experience quite a bit. I just felt as if I was immersing myself in an audiobook with sound effects. Genuinely was so authentic.

And as I got to the end of the novel, and as we transitioned to her time in New Orleans, there was still this underlying freedom attached to the sea in this story. This sense of liberty that came with visiting the beachfront, it seemed only when she was happiest and it’s no coincidence that she’s experiencing this inner turmoil for pretty much the entire second half having been deprived of that joy. And so taking a walk alongside the beach, I attempted to put myself in her steps. Understand what she may have been thinking in those last few moments, if she was thinking anything at all? But being out there, I understood. It was extremely dark. I could feel that warm, humid air on my skin even though I could simultaneously feel a couple of droplets as the night droned on. Could see even the many oil rigs hundreds of miles away in the sea, lights of boats passing the coastline. I took all of this in. Looked up at the night sky and for a second, I could understand why she’d swum out to sea. Letting the sea consume her, able to finally escape all that consumed her racing mind. All these restrictions and beliefs on how she should carry herself. And I imagined Edna stepping out into the water and never looking back. But alas, that was not me. I stepped back from the water, and understanding that fiction was merely just fiction, I bid Edna farewell and continued walking on. Promising myself, that if it ever got too much. I will keep pushing, in fact. And I would avoid Edna’s example.

Because all in all, I feel that despite Kate's depiction of Edna being so extremely realistic. I think she sort of faltered in Edna’s final moments allowing her to take the easy way out. I feel that goes against the grain of her character, everything that she stood for. To be honest, I don’t think Edna would ever allow herself to get so worked up over Robert, in the end. I do think Robert came to be her true love but in the end, I can’t see her choosing to throw her life way ultimately over a man. I think for this to be such a revolutionary piece of feminist literature, it still falters in that it's so central about men. Way too overly reliant on other men and honestly, that may be my only critique throughout it all. Well, that and the ending, of course…….

I give the Awakening a 7.5/10.

Reading by the Beach

Exploring and relaxing in Grand Isle while reading The Awakening by Kate Chopin created an experience that felt so much deeper than reading a book on my couch. One of the most memorable parts of being there was sitting on the porch swing, looking out toward the ocean, and visualizing the exact setting Chopin recurrently describes throughout her novel. Seeing the water in real life completely transformed the story from words in a book into something tangible. Instead of imagining the scenery through descriptions alone, I was experiencing it firsthand. Looking at the waves made the setting feel alive, and it allowed me to understand the environment that shaped so much of the story. I enjoyed reading this book because it offered new perspectives and a creative journey, and being able to connect its literature with a real place made this moment so much more enjoyable and meaningful. Experiencing Grand Isle firsthand while reading a book that took place there also helped me better understand the emotions and symbolism within the novel, while having the opportunity to appreciate the history and culture connected to the location itself.

Throughout The Awakening, the sea is one of the most important symbols because it represents freedom, Edna’s self-discovery, and her transformation as she begins to question her identity and the expectations she is expected to meet. While reading the descriptions of Grand Isle, I loved being able to look at the beach and imagine the same scenery that inspired the setting of the book. The peaceful atmosphere made it much easier to understand why the sea held such significance for Edna because it created a space for her to be separate from responsibilities, allowing her time for contemplation. The ocean becomes a place where Edna begins reflecting on herself and imagining a life beyond the feminine roles she has been given. During the late nineteenth century, women were expected to dedicate themselves fully to their families and social responsibilities, and throughout the novel, Edna begins struggling with those expectations as she searches for individuality. However, the ocean becomes one of the few places where she feels free from those pressures. Sitting by the water in Grand Isle gave me a better understanding of her emotions because the environment itself felt calming and reflective. The sound of the waves and the openness of the water created a sense of peace that naturally encouraged thought and meditation, making it easier to understand why Edna was so drawn to it.

I think one of the most significant moments in The Awakening is when Edna learns to swim because it symbolizes her “awakening” and growing independence away from societal conformity. Learning to swim gives her the possibility of becoming more than what society expects from her. Reading this specific chapter while physically sitting near the ocean made the symbolism feel much stronger because I could actually picture the scene taking place around me. Looking out at the water made me think about how the sea represented possibility for Edna. It became a symbol of freedom and change, but also uncertainty as she continued trying to understand who she was. Swimming has always been special to me because being in the water gives me a sense of excitement and freedom. I especially enjoyed jumping through the waves with friends during the trip because it turned the ocean into a place of joy and connection. Since I am from Salinas, California, I do not often swim in the ocean because the water near home is usually too cold, so being able to fully experience the warm water in Grand Isle made the moment feel even more memorable to me. Being in Grand Isle also helped me realize that the setting itself contributes to her development. This also made me realize that settings in literature can influence characters just as much as people do.

“The voice of the sea is seductive; never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander for a spell in abysses of solitude.”

- Kate Chopin, The Awakening

This experience also felt personally meaningful because I recently finished my first year of college and have entered a new stage of life myself. Although my experiences are very different from Edna’s, I connected with the idea of growth and self-discovery. College has brought new responsibilities and opportunities, and it has made me think more about my own future and the type of person I want to grow up to become. As someone studying Occupational Therapy & Science, I am interested in helping people and understanding how experiences shape identity and well-being. Reading Edna’s journey while physically experiencing the environment that influenced her made me think about how powerful places can be in shaping people.

I was also introduced to how powerful bookpacking is. Visiting places connected to a story brings literature to life in a way that reading alone cannot. Before this trip, reading had always been something I experienced through imagination, but bookpacking allowed me to physically step into the world of the novel. I was sitting in the exact setting rather than trying to visualize the details. The water, the atmosphere, and the peaceful environment made the story feel more personal and real. Grand Isle became both a prominent setting of The Awakening and a part of my own experience with the book. Being able to sit by the ocean and visualize the events of the novel showed me how literature and place can strengthen one another, creating an experience far deeper than reading alone.