Monday, June 19, 2006

mr. fish, did you die?

remember when i was raving about snow, how much i loved the first line of the book, and how excited i was to read great literature again?

well...the honeymoon is over, and i finally had to killed the book about half way through. i REALLY tried hard to read that dang thing, but, alas, i could not go further. i think i read a total of 2 or 3 chapters last week, hoping it would get better, but being thoroughly disappointed every time. i was given special permission to finally put it out of it's misery and pick up something i actually want to read. so here's my beef with snow:

the writing? fantastic!
the characters & their development? satisfactory.
the subject matter? shoot me now.

it's not that i don't think the conflict between traditional islam & revolutionary/go democracy! islam isn't an interesting subject matter. the fictionalized version of it just isn't my cup o' tea. in one word, it was boring. i would turn every page, hoping to find more character development of ka, the atheist poet returned from germany, finding God through his poetry. instead, a long discussion would ensue about the issue of wearing head scarves in public schools. and i would get bored. i held out as long as i could; really, i did! the depth and brilliance of the writing were the only things keeping me going thus far, but it finally had to die. and quickly. like ripping off a bandaid. one swift motion, RIGHT off.

side effects? the need/want/urge to buy more books, even though i have a small stack waiting to be read.

*sigh*

i am now the proud owner of sense and sensibility, emma's war (recommended to me by liz), & mutants: on genetic variety and the human body. this last selection i found while wandering the biology section at borders. it has a picture of a man on the cover who has no limbs; just a head, a torso, feet, & hands. it was love at first sight. i asked kat if it was strange that i really wanted this book.

"for you or for a normal person?"

"...yes..."

2 comments:

  1. Never feel guilty about putting down a book that doesn't hold your interest. Most of the time, no matter how many critics rave about a book, if it bores you, the failure is the author's, not yours. There are plenty of works in the literary canon that are there because they're great books, not because they're great reads. I'm looking at you James Joyce. In my opinion the reading experience should be just as enjoyable or at least compelling as it is enriching. And that is why I will never ever ever read Finnegan's Wake and also why I will never ever ever feel bad about it.

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  2. Yeah, I've put a good book down before, too. When narcolepsy strikes, I don't care how many degrees the author holds, or how compelling the infant sewer rats in Uganda's fight for more cheese is. Simple breakdown:

    Plot = score!
    Dribbling details & blah blah blah = I start looking for things to amputate. Starting with the toes. And I like my toes. No book should have the gall to mess with the sanctity of my toes.

    I own Sense and Sensibility too. Good read; a bit more superfluous detail than the Emma Thompson film so aptly clipped.

    A better book would be "Emma's War ON Mutants and Genetic Variety" which would lead Jane Austen fans everywhere to read Darwin and Spencer; in ten years we'll have harlequin romance novels about a rich young mutant who falls in love with Emma Woodhouse, their ensuing whirlwind romance and their three-eyed children with four arms apiece.

    Now that would be an abnormal book.

    Dibs.

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