genteel applause for amanda
OK! A strategy I can support, since I am wholly unfaithful. There is something about being supposed to read something that wakes my inner rebel.
I am currently (as in start-and-finish today) re-reading A Complicated Kindness. I love this book. I could be Nomi, except my rejection of religion took place a few years later than hers.
But what I'm enraptured with right now is Nomi's dad, Ray (no, not like that), because he is immobilized. And he talks about decay in a really interesting way. He says about potasium breaking down into argon, Fifty billion years to find a little stability. A molecule's worth. And since it's a novel, and nobody says things for no reason, I assume we are meant to draw analogy to a person seeking stability. He's also a fellow who rearranges the dump at night, into a system that makes sense to him. And gives away the furniture because he prefers the potentiality of what might someday fill that space.
I like how re-reading a book that you click with always gives you something more than the last time you read it. Until the last time you will read it, when you realize that you've changed enough that the book doesn't click with you.
Like, I used to get the urge to read Lord of the Rings every fall. The air would get chilly and crispy leaves underfoot, and I would be pulled to it. Something about vicarious itchy feet. But now, I don't get that urge. I don't want to head out and seek adventure anymore. So Lord of the Rings doesn't pull me.
I am currently (as in start-and-finish today) re-reading A Complicated Kindness. I love this book. I could be Nomi, except my rejection of religion took place a few years later than hers.
But what I'm enraptured with right now is Nomi's dad, Ray (no, not like that), because he is immobilized. And he talks about decay in a really interesting way. He says about potasium breaking down into argon, Fifty billion years to find a little stability. A molecule's worth. And since it's a novel, and nobody says things for no reason, I assume we are meant to draw analogy to a person seeking stability. He's also a fellow who rearranges the dump at night, into a system that makes sense to him. And gives away the furniture because he prefers the potentiality of what might someday fill that space.
I like how re-reading a book that you click with always gives you something more than the last time you read it. Until the last time you will read it, when you realize that you've changed enough that the book doesn't click with you.
Like, I used to get the urge to read Lord of the Rings every fall. The air would get chilly and crispy leaves underfoot, and I would be pulled to it. Something about vicarious itchy feet. But now, I don't get that urge. I don't want to head out and seek adventure anymore. So Lord of the Rings doesn't pull me.
posted by devious at 19:18
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