Julie was asking about books that have ravished you. I haven't read anything lately that has swept me off my feet, but I have just started The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz, and while there hasn't been much ravishing, there's definitely more than just a peck on the cheek going on.
The book is poetry, almost, since there are a lot of words (foreign and foreign-to-me) that I sort of glide past, enjoying their cadence and the ebb and flow of the text, rather than actually understanding the meaning. It's not necessarily pretty and dainty, but it's lyrical and keeps pulling me along.
I've been reading bits of it, maybe 10-15 pages at a time, and while I don't necessarily spend my time away from the book wondering what's going to happen to the characters, I do spend a lot of time running phrases and the feelings of the words through my brain.
It's been a while since I've read something not-frothy (or not-horribly written school stuff) and I forgot what pleasure I can get from a good book. As opposed to a book that's supposed to be good (Seriously. Atonement sucked ass.). It's a nice departure from the Shopaholic series (which is 1,000,000 times better than anything Candace Bushnell can pull out of her ass).
One more thing that this book has highlighted is the joy I get from some names. I'm more than a little in love with the name Hypatia, and it sings to me sometimes while I'm loading the dishwasher.
I think that's why I like to write. Because I like to name. It's an excellent excuse to trot out particular favorites (Cordelia) without burdening a pet or a child. Because seriously, people, naming your child something "interesting" or "cool" or that's spelled differently (wrong) does nothing except show people that you have no creative outlet and only burdens your little Jai'mee with the knowledge that their parents are morons and they themselves will never live up to the hype of their name.
The book is poetry, almost, since there are a lot of words (foreign and foreign-to-me) that I sort of glide past, enjoying their cadence and the ebb and flow of the text, rather than actually understanding the meaning. It's not necessarily pretty and dainty, but it's lyrical and keeps pulling me along.
I've been reading bits of it, maybe 10-15 pages at a time, and while I don't necessarily spend my time away from the book wondering what's going to happen to the characters, I do spend a lot of time running phrases and the feelings of the words through my brain.
It's been a while since I've read something not-frothy (or not-horribly written school stuff) and I forgot what pleasure I can get from a good book. As opposed to a book that's supposed to be good (Seriously. Atonement sucked ass.). It's a nice departure from the Shopaholic series (which is 1,000,000 times better than anything Candace Bushnell can pull out of her ass).
One more thing that this book has highlighted is the joy I get from some names. I'm more than a little in love with the name Hypatia, and it sings to me sometimes while I'm loading the dishwasher.
I think that's why I like to write. Because I like to name. It's an excellent excuse to trot out particular favorites (Cordelia) without burdening a pet or a child. Because seriously, people, naming your child something "interesting" or "cool" or that's spelled differently (wrong) does nothing except show people that you have no creative outlet and only burdens your little Jai'mee with the knowledge that their parents are morons and they themselves will never live up to the hype of their name.
Can I get an "amen" on that last paragraph!?
ReplyDeleteKathyr - AMEN!
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