Back to regular book blogging, however the vlog from the other week went so well I might consider doing more. Do let me know if you’d like that! It was fun.
Anyway! I’m procrastinating. Help me? Thanks! I’m trying to work on a poem and it’s not being very cooperative. Cinquains are cheeky.
Can you tell I’ve had a lot of coffee this morning?
Okay, settle down.
[Serious blogger face on.]
Thin books are marvellous. Take this week for example. Were you to ask, What have you finished? I’d reply, A Tolstoy and a Fitzgerald. Sounds posh! Like I’ve not slept! But, coming in at 106 and 188* pages respectively, the speed at which I was able to knock them over was also due – I hardly need add – due to their magnificence.
I couldn’t help reading The Death of Ivan Ilyich without having my father in mind, for it is the story of a dying man coming to terms with his immanent departure from this world. I cried.
The Great Gatsby and I have a past. Sort of. Well we have a past without having a past, if that’s possible. I got through high school, then a BA, then a MA, without ever being assigned it to study when it seemed a lot of my other friends did. I’ve had it on my shelf for years, even picked it up once, but never got beyond the second page for a variety of reasons that include laziness and – bafflingly – reluctance.
I thought I ‘knew’ what it would be like (parties, jazz, decadence etc) but that doesn’t come close to the heart of the story. Luckily I lived thirty-two years of my life without knowing the plot, so I could enjoy it without any preconceptions. I think that’s why I’m still thinking about it days after turning the last page.
Perhaps it’s a good thing I didn’t read it before: I do have a hunch that certain books – those which leave a true, lasting impact – come into our lives at exactly the right time. Another example would be Dracula, age thirteen. Or The Name of the Rose, age twelve.
The Great Gatsby comes close, I must say. Very close.
photo credit: Rakka
* My copy of The Great Gatsby isn’t the same as this picture, but this picture comes closest to the ‘look’ of mine, which was done in watercolours.
