This is one of the first weekends that I finished my required reading by Saturday night. I don’t know what it was about this week, but my nose was in the books constantly. The theory is that my brain is so conditioned to final exams and papers at this time of year that it subconsciously launched into adrenaline mode, as if there were seventeen assignments due and less than a month in which to complete them. It’s the same influence that makes me feel smarter in the fall. Being a university student is something I miss very much, and I did it for so many years that it would be impossible to ever shake the associated habits (including, unfortunately, cramming for important projects). There is no doubt in my mind that I’ll go back one day. In the meantime, I shall have to stick to Tanya U, which is still filled with much learning, albeit of a more relaxed nature.
Two of this week’s books had to do with reading. The first, edited by the brilliant Anne Fadiman, was Rereadings: Seventeen Writers Revisit Books They Love
. You may be surprised, but I got nothing out of it. You should know this about me: I rarely if ever re-read books unless I’m giving a talk on them. The reason is that there is so much out there to get to that it feels like stagnation going over the same ground twice. Perhaps I’ll feel differently after many more years of life and experience, but this is how it is for the moment. I know you pick up on things you may have missed, or see the text with different eyes, but it’s still fundamentally the same book. Since I don’t re-read, I didn’t much care for hearing about the revisitations of others, least of all for titles that aren't familiar. This volume only got picked up because Fadiman’s name was attached to it. Others will definitely appreciate it, so please don’t turn away because of this personal feedback.
The second book was Leave Me Alone, I’m Reading by Maureen Corrigan. Clearly, this author can be counted among the ranks of bibliophiles everywhere. She discusses her mania, how books overpower her house and how her career consists of reading. In between, she reveals more personal aspects of her life, such as her struggles both to have a child and wade through the waters of academia. I was enjoying this book thoroughly until about halfway through. I didn’t like the feminist/leftist discussions on various titles (the lenses felt somewhat dated), and couldn’t at all relate to the Brooklyn working class Catholic background that tainted her reading and in this case, somewhat overpowered her writing. Not that I have to relate to everything I read (far from it), but something in this put me off. That said, I would read others of her books in the future, or at least give them a chance.
I started reading the third book to my husband months ago and hadn’t finished until today: Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll. While he had read it during his childhood, I had not. We started it as part of a new bedtime ritual, but quickly realized that it would take a while because of our sleeping habits. I go to bed only when on the verge of collapse which occurs, much to my chagrin, far earlier than it did ten years ago. By the time he joins me an hour or two later, I’m more often than not out cold. He then reads alone, being quite the night crawler and unable to unwind without some form of literary transition. Despite the deep allure of weighty slumber, it got done.
If you’re getting the impression that it seemed a bit of a chore, you aren’t wrong. While I loved the bonding with my hubby part, this isn’t my type of story. It’s too absurd and nonsensical, as Carroll himself stated repeatedly. Everyone should read it at some point, however, because of all the allusions and references made to it by writers, artists, and filmmakers ever since its publication in the nineteenth-century. One cannot accuse it of lacking imagery nor memorable characters. I think we'll read an American classic for the next bedtime pick, and then head back to Victorian Britain after that. On verra.
In the meantime, I’ll go spend some time with my husband lest he forget that he actually has a living and breathing wife.
Comments