There's a list a mile long of things I still want to get done before the baby arrives. Most of it relates directly to his arrival. Things like organizing the craft room (i.e. getting rid of all the JUNK in there we don't need and won't have room for), getting the mudroom more functional and less of a dumping ground, and the obvious things like washing all of his clothes/linens, and finishing the nursery. But I thought of one thing I want to do today before he gets here.
Last April I flew all the way to Florida to baby-sit my niece. Spending all that time in the airport and airplanes by myself gave me time to start a book of sizable girth. A book I had started once before, ages ago in middle school, and didn't finish. I got frustrated with the author's style. He tends to ramble and get himself distracted with discourses in European & Ancient history and philosophy. Now that I'm older I got into the story more (and gave myself permission to skip some pages here or there of the rambling). But when the trip came to an end, I read a little bit at home and then came to a screeching halt...300 pages from the end.
When I had my glucose test I knew I'd be trapped in the waiting room for at least an hour so I dug the book out and brought it with me. Thanks to my memory and my cinema-like mind I got right back into the plot with hardly missing a beat. But busyness has been keeping me from reading more. Well, truth be told, busyness and my DVR. I've been reliving my middle school years by watching 'Boy Meets World' every evening when I could very well be reading. I guess I'm part of the TV generation I love to loathe after all.
But I want to finish this book before the baby gets here. First of all, it's just silly that I read over a 1,000 pages and have gotten stuck here with 300 pages to go. That's far more than half and to not finish would be a real biblio-failure. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly from a psychological point of view, if I take the time to finish this book, it's something just for me. This doesn't benefit the baby, Curtis, or anyone else. And while I most definitely do not fall into the 'it's okay to be selfish' camp, I do know that there are times when it is necessary to do something completely for yourself. And completely by myself. Unlike ladies' nights and craft nights at church which involve my 'soul sisters' (as we've decided to call ourselves) reading is solitary. It's me time and only me time.
I tried to come up with some other things to achieve before my son comes in and takes over my life. Maybe it's sad but I couldn't come up with anything else that really seems important to get done. I don't have much of a bucket list really anyway. So this is the one thing on my 'Before the Baby Comes Bucket List'. To finish a novel I started almost a year ago. And I feel that I must give myself permission to fail at this in case I don't find the time to read in the next 6-8 weeks. It's okay. Really, I think the idea of it is more important. It reminds me to not let my life get too wrapped up in my son. Ultimately that wouldn't be healthy for me, Curtis, or the baby. It would lead to a loss of my identity and smothering him with my plans for his life.
And for anyone who is wondering...the book is Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. I know, I know, it seems strange that someone like me who is OBSESSED with the show and has been quite the bookworm in the past has not read LesMis yet. Like I said, Hugo can be a smidge annoying at times (especially when I tried reading him as a 7th grader...geez louise, that was rough)...but hopefully my determination wins over his ADD style of writing and I manage to finish. Or not. Either way. At least I have my music.
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Monday, March 5, 2012
Friday, June 3, 2011
Finding My Way to Shakespeare
I'm a snob. I have to admit that. The first step is admitting you have a problem, right? Well, I have a problem. I am a book snob. I blame it on my degree. Majoring in literature will make you a book snob. At least it did for me. The funny thing is, I never realized it until today. Because when you are a lesser snob among snobs you don't realize it's happening. At BGSU everyone's into postmodern or modern literature, they look down their noses at fluff that I love like Anne of Green Gables or A Little Princess. Fluff! Doesn't belong on the canon, any canon. Fluff and nonsense. You know, because James Joyce's Ulysses makes perfect sense...*heavy sarcasm*
But I am a book snob. I have turned my back on my roots and denied my past. The fact is what made me fall in love reading, with books, and ultimately with "literature" (* heavy British accent*) was books for kids. I remember really starting to like books when we read The American Girls series, the original girls: Felicity, Kirsten, Samantha, and Molly (Addy was added just as I was about to out-grow the books so she was the last one I read). As I grew older other series like The Baby-Sitter's Club ( I owned all of them), and Sweet Valley Twins/High became my favorites. I made my own kid kit and liked the idea of baby-sitting (I never trusted myself to actually take care of kids until high school...now I do it full time!). My best friends were twins so the Sweet Valley High books were amazing. I read Nancy Drew, The Boxcar Children, and most of the Anne of Green Gables books in upper elementary and into middle school. My collection was peppered with dozens of other books: The Judge Benjamin books (little known series about a Saint Bernard...loved 'em!), Dear America books, Beyond the Burning Time, Summer of My German Soldier, A Little Princess, The Mandie series, Misty of Chincoteague (and sequels), anything I could get my hands on.
Are any of these books striking you as terribly intellectual? Some of them have educational content, many are historical in nature but not something a academic committee would select for a canon. Literary theory applies to very few of these books. Some people have managed to write theory on Anne of Green Gables, I can see Marxist theory or feminist theory in A Little Princess, possibly some feminist theory in Nancy Drew, everything else would be a real stretch. And yet I loved them. I still love them. I love the smell of my books, the feel of the soft pages. Sometimes I try to remember how old I was and what I was thinking the first time I thumbed through those pages. I feel connection to the old me when I read those same words.
The fact is it wasn't until middle school that I started reading true literature, the classics. I read Jane Eyre in sixth grade, I attempted Les Miserables the following year (got bored with Hugo's dissertations on everything 19th century and French), I read Frankenstein, Dracula, and Jekyll & Hyde the year after that. Apparently I was in a science-fiction/horror phase. I remember reading Dracula by the light of my nightlight (something I did a lot so my parents would think I was sleeping) and having the absolute dickens scared out of me. Perhaps that's why I don't like Dickens (really, really bad pun, I know).
In high school I was introduced to Pride & Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, and The Awakening. Loved them all. Especially The Awakening. I was completely inspired. I read Canterbury Tales, Beowulf, and lots of Shakespeare. I became completely enamoured with British literature, which is probably why my favorite college classes were the ones 'normal people' hated--the two Brit lit survey courses. The Dream of the Rood, Arthurian Tales, The Faerie Queen, essays by Mary Wollstonecraft, poems by Byron, Shelley, and Keats; I couldn't get enough of it. It was hard, it challenged me, but I loved it. The reward was worth the effort. It was normal for me to spend an hour trying to figure out the meaning of Shelley's poem 'Mont Blanc' but I was excited and thrilled when I finally 'got it'.
Looking back I can see how step by step I came from The American Girls to Twelfth Night. I was lucky enough to fall absolutely head over heels in love with reading and words as a child. And it was that love that carried me through the tough stuff, and the stuff I didn't like, to the stuff that absolutely inspires me today. It's entirely normal for me to read two or three hundred pages in a day, if I have the time. I tend to go on reading binges. Rather than nibbling a bit every day, I gobble up a four hundred page book in a day or two. But it all started sitting with my mom on her bed reading the books about Felicity Merriman, word by word, page by page, chapter by chapter.
I have high expectations for what a book 'should be' or how a book 'should be read'. It's because I've been trained to read, not just taught. I've been told what makes a book good rather than just feeling it instinctively. I try to not impose my snobbery on others, especially the kids I work with that are still trying to figure this whole reading thing out. I want them to love it because it is fun. That's why I loved it, and that's what eventually made me fall in love with the intellectual stimulation part. I want to help them choose books that they will love because they are fun, exciting, or interesting. And then, maybe, hopefully, they will start to choose harder books, older books, and make their way to Shakespeare like I did.
But I am a book snob. I have turned my back on my roots and denied my past. The fact is what made me fall in love reading, with books, and ultimately with "literature" (* heavy British accent*) was books for kids. I remember really starting to like books when we read The American Girls series, the original girls: Felicity, Kirsten, Samantha, and Molly (Addy was added just as I was about to out-grow the books so she was the last one I read). As I grew older other series like The Baby-Sitter's Club ( I owned all of them), and Sweet Valley Twins/High became my favorites. I made my own kid kit and liked the idea of baby-sitting (I never trusted myself to actually take care of kids until high school...now I do it full time!). My best friends were twins so the Sweet Valley High books were amazing. I read Nancy Drew, The Boxcar Children, and most of the Anne of Green Gables books in upper elementary and into middle school. My collection was peppered with dozens of other books: The Judge Benjamin books (little known series about a Saint Bernard...loved 'em!), Dear America books, Beyond the Burning Time, Summer of My German Soldier, A Little Princess, The Mandie series, Misty of Chincoteague (and sequels), anything I could get my hands on.
Are any of these books striking you as terribly intellectual? Some of them have educational content, many are historical in nature but not something a academic committee would select for a canon. Literary theory applies to very few of these books. Some people have managed to write theory on Anne of Green Gables, I can see Marxist theory or feminist theory in A Little Princess, possibly some feminist theory in Nancy Drew, everything else would be a real stretch. And yet I loved them. I still love them. I love the smell of my books, the feel of the soft pages. Sometimes I try to remember how old I was and what I was thinking the first time I thumbed through those pages. I feel connection to the old me when I read those same words.
The fact is it wasn't until middle school that I started reading true literature, the classics. I read Jane Eyre in sixth grade, I attempted Les Miserables the following year (got bored with Hugo's dissertations on everything 19th century and French), I read Frankenstein, Dracula, and Jekyll & Hyde the year after that. Apparently I was in a science-fiction/horror phase. I remember reading Dracula by the light of my nightlight (something I did a lot so my parents would think I was sleeping) and having the absolute dickens scared out of me. Perhaps that's why I don't like Dickens (really, really bad pun, I know).
In high school I was introduced to Pride & Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, and The Awakening. Loved them all. Especially The Awakening. I was completely inspired. I read Canterbury Tales, Beowulf, and lots of Shakespeare. I became completely enamoured with British literature, which is probably why my favorite college classes were the ones 'normal people' hated--the two Brit lit survey courses. The Dream of the Rood, Arthurian Tales, The Faerie Queen, essays by Mary Wollstonecraft, poems by Byron, Shelley, and Keats; I couldn't get enough of it. It was hard, it challenged me, but I loved it. The reward was worth the effort. It was normal for me to spend an hour trying to figure out the meaning of Shelley's poem 'Mont Blanc' but I was excited and thrilled when I finally 'got it'.
Looking back I can see how step by step I came from The American Girls to Twelfth Night. I was lucky enough to fall absolutely head over heels in love with reading and words as a child. And it was that love that carried me through the tough stuff, and the stuff I didn't like, to the stuff that absolutely inspires me today. It's entirely normal for me to read two or three hundred pages in a day, if I have the time. I tend to go on reading binges. Rather than nibbling a bit every day, I gobble up a four hundred page book in a day or two. But it all started sitting with my mom on her bed reading the books about Felicity Merriman, word by word, page by page, chapter by chapter.
I have high expectations for what a book 'should be' or how a book 'should be read'. It's because I've been trained to read, not just taught. I've been told what makes a book good rather than just feeling it instinctively. I try to not impose my snobbery on others, especially the kids I work with that are still trying to figure this whole reading thing out. I want them to love it because it is fun. That's why I loved it, and that's what eventually made me fall in love with the intellectual stimulation part. I want to help them choose books that they will love because they are fun, exciting, or interesting. And then, maybe, hopefully, they will start to choose harder books, older books, and make their way to Shakespeare like I did.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Reading Old Friends
Every summer I make lofty reading goals for myself. I intend to use hot summer days and muggy summer evenings to devour books, some of which have been sitting on my shelf ignored for years. I never meet my goals. My job demands far too much of my time, especially in the summer, so many books continue living their lonely lives on my dusty bookshelves.
But, I feel the need to make a list and set some goals anyway. Every now and then I come across an old reading list and I smile. There was the summer I planned on reading all of the Harry Potters and most of Shakespeare's plays. Yes, in the same summer. For the record--I read none of either.
My list for the summer of 2011...
I've read Jane, Anne, and ...And Ladies, before. They are old friends. I know their plot twists, I know what to expect from them. And yet, every time I read them, I find something new, sometimes about the book but usually about myself. Much like talking to a friend, especially an old friend.
There are probably 50 books on my shelves that I've never read. Books that I've bought or that have been given to me, books that seem interesting which is why I can't part with them. With books it seems as if I have to read them at just the right moment. ...And Ladies of the Club sat on my shelf for about four years before I finally read it. But it was my time to read it, I fell in love with it, and I wouldn't have if I'd read it before. Countless times I've picked up a book, read a few pages, a chapter or two, and just can't keep going. Then, months or years later I'll pick it up again and I can't put it down. It depends on where I am in life, with what I'm feeling, with what I need from a book. It seems that there's a time for Austen, and a time for Twain, and a time for Hemingway and a time for Lewis.
Only time will tell if I'll read any of the books on my list. If I never finish Les Miserables then it seems that I will never read again as I've vowed to not start another until it's done. Maybe an hour or two with the soundtrack will help motivate me to finish the book. In fact, four out of the five books I've chosen for this summer have been made into musicals. So you can guess what I'll be listening to this summer!
What are your summer reading goals? Are there any books that are just perfect for the beach? (I read Gone With the Wind on the beach when I was about 15 and I loved it!). Are there any books that you've read over and over? Try to find some time to sit outside, soaking up the summer sun and drinking in a good book. Happy reading!
But, I feel the need to make a list and set some goals anyway. Every now and then I come across an old reading list and I smile. There was the summer I planned on reading all of the Harry Potters and most of Shakespeare's plays. Yes, in the same summer. For the record--I read none of either.
My list for the summer of 2011...
- Les Miserables, Victor Hugo: Finish! I have 300 or so pages left to read and seem unable to power through to the end. I absolutely refuse to start another book without finishing this one!
- ...And Ladies of the Club, Helen Hooven Santmyer: One of my absolute favorite books. Chock full of wonderful characters and a beautiful story. I try to read it every summer; I didn't read it last summer and I really missed it.
- Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte: I've read it before but it's been years. I really want to revisit this old friend and see what I understand/notice this time around. I was in 6th grade the first time I read Jane--I expect the experience to be different now!
- Anne of Green Gables, Lucy Maud Montgomery: Or at least one of the books in the series. House of Dreams is one of my favorites, or Rilla of Ingleside. But I very well may go back to the beginning of Green Gables and reintroduce myself to all those old friends.
- The Secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett: I've read this book before as well, but I was very young and didn't understand it. It seems like a marvelous story and I'd like to try reading it again. It's entirely probable that reading The Secret Garden will prompt me to read Burnett's other classic, A Little Princess, which I absolutely adore.
I've read Jane, Anne, and ...And Ladies, before. They are old friends. I know their plot twists, I know what to expect from them. And yet, every time I read them, I find something new, sometimes about the book but usually about myself. Much like talking to a friend, especially an old friend.
There are probably 50 books on my shelves that I've never read. Books that I've bought or that have been given to me, books that seem interesting which is why I can't part with them. With books it seems as if I have to read them at just the right moment. ...And Ladies of the Club sat on my shelf for about four years before I finally read it. But it was my time to read it, I fell in love with it, and I wouldn't have if I'd read it before. Countless times I've picked up a book, read a few pages, a chapter or two, and just can't keep going. Then, months or years later I'll pick it up again and I can't put it down. It depends on where I am in life, with what I'm feeling, with what I need from a book. It seems that there's a time for Austen, and a time for Twain, and a time for Hemingway and a time for Lewis.
Only time will tell if I'll read any of the books on my list. If I never finish Les Miserables then it seems that I will never read again as I've vowed to not start another until it's done. Maybe an hour or two with the soundtrack will help motivate me to finish the book. In fact, four out of the five books I've chosen for this summer have been made into musicals. So you can guess what I'll be listening to this summer!
What are your summer reading goals? Are there any books that are just perfect for the beach? (I read Gone With the Wind on the beach when I was about 15 and I loved it!). Are there any books that you've read over and over? Try to find some time to sit outside, soaking up the summer sun and drinking in a good book. Happy reading!
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