That's what Eric calls me, as I usually have a book in my hand, even before this little college experiment began. I have a rule about reading: if I give a book a good-faith effort, starting it a couple times, trying my best to make it past the first 100 pages, I don't have to finish it if the experience is abysmal to me. My rule works less well when the book is assigned for a class. This past week I hit my first clunker (not bad, with almost two semesters down): Jean Rhys's Wide Sargasso Sea. Rhys writes about the mad woman in the attic of Jane Eyre. She shouldn't have bothered. Since this is my blog, I do not have to justify my dislike of that conceit, nor do I have to invoke Derrida or Post-Anything to assert: boring, self-indulgent, would rather have been reading from the stack of books on my nightstand that have to wait six years until I finish my doctorate.
All you English major types can chuckle smugly at my dimness. Ooh, and remind me to tell you about all those English majors in my BritLit class sometime. Major oddness.
11 comments:
Bummer. Especially after we both read March, another parallel novel--this one about the absent father from Little Women.
Do your readers know that you usually skip ahead to the ending of a book? If not, I just thought they should. Blasphemy.
Blasphemy is the new black.
For the record, Scooter does read the whole book. He just gets a little scared sometimes about how it will end, so sneaks a peek.
I am like Scott in this way, either that or I am ADD. I start a book, and then, if I'm not in the mood or it isn't grabbing me-I put it down. Don't know how many times I've started the novel Bel Canto...only to move on to something else. I will say a book that has grabbed me and couldn't put down this weekend was "The Master Butchers Singing Club" by Louise Erdrich. What to read next?
Several points:
1) The knowledge that you skip ahead to read the ending of a book is extremely disturbing. France may have to call another BlogStrike. Or some equally drastic measure.
2) I also have been grappling recently with how much of a book I need to read before I decide that it's just not worth the effort, and I can absolve myself of guilt if I don't finish it. Because I have a very sequential mindset (see #1 above), this is difficult for me, but I've been thinking of setting the minimum at 1/4 of the book, measured both in pages and number of chapters. But that could be a lot of punishment if the book is really long.
3) Speaking of blasphemy, I never thought that Charlotte should have bothered inventing the mad woman in the attic in the first place. Or really, Jane Eyre. So I sympathize entirely with you on the Rhys.
I've read a rule somewhere (Nancy Pearl, the most famous of all librarians?) that you subtract your age from 100 and read that many pages to find out if a book will grab you or not. I find myself less patient now that I work in the library--there are too many books that look really interesting.
It's comforting to know that you are ever vigilant with regard to your readership's quality television viewing options. If I may be so bold to speak for the group, we thank you.
I always wished WSS would be more interesting. It's most useful quality, however, is that now when you get "sargasso" as a freerice word, you'll know it means seaweed.
My confession: Although I appreciate how well written it is, I have started and given up on Atonement three times. Thank God for Netflix and the DVD.
I am currently reading The Appeal and P.S. I Love You, both (borrowed) books with clever conceits that are falling short. The first just plods along, introducing one boring new character after another. I don't expect a lot from Grisham, but a quickly paced plot and charmingly good/bad characters are necessary. The second is just plain adequate writing. It feels like I am reading something written by one of my teenage students, except it's set in Dublin. My mind is constantly editing for style.
I keep reading, hoping they'll get better. But it really doesn't matter. Anything is more fun to read than the stacks of ungraded tests, papers, and homework piled across my living room rug. I'll read anything to avoid the stacks. Though, as grades are due this week...
And as for reading the ends of things: I had forgotten about that little opening chorus to Romeo and Juliet until I was teaching it (to the 10th graders -- joy of my existence) a few weeks ago. It doesn't just foreshadow a tragic end, it spells it out. I explained to my darlings that it's not the ending itself that matters, it how we (Romeo, Juliet, and we ourselves) get there. Mostly, we are getting there by sending kids who misbehave to the office.
PS My mother just tore through The Tender Bar. She's recommending it highly.
It was very thoughtful of Scooter to give a TV update for particular readers. Readers without access to American TV might consider it cruel and taunting, but we're used to that.
Here's the thing, though: I have "The American President" on tape. I've had it on tape more or less since it first came out (and, obviously, since long before DVDs really existed), and I have a VCR. I can watch "The American President" whenever I want. Why, then, do I still get excited whenever it's being broadcast, and WHY do I still watch it on TV, complete with millions of annoying commercial breaks?
Deb, is this a diagnosable condition?!
Oh Stephanie, thank you for asking.
Yes, it is.
In fact, everyone here has a codable psychiatric diagnosis.
hahahahahahahaha
Including Dr. Deb ...
xoxox
phil
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