Literary Obligation

[ladysprite]

I always used to feel that when I started reading a book, I somehow owed it to the book, or the author, or the universe, or something like that, to finish the book - that if I started it and didn't finish it, I had somehow committed a Great Wrongdoing, or unbalanced the scales of the world. No matter how lousy it was, or how utterly against my tastes, if I made it past the first page I'd persevere and slog my way through, come what may.

I'm not quite sure what has changed in the past year or so - maybe I've just become busy enough that I've had to rethink my priorities; maybe I've just become more discerning in my literary tastes, or maybe I've just finally encountered *truly* egregious writing for the first time - but I have finally exchanged that philosophy for another; namely, that there are too many interesting things to do with my life to waste time reading bad books. And there are too many things in the world that are unpleasant to spend my leisure time engaging in something that is also unpleasant.

This means, among other things, that I will never finish reading "Unnatural History," by Johnathan Green, a novel which looked like it should be deliciously turgid and hilarious on the shelf, but which just turned out to be, while turgid, neither delicious nor hilarious. Alas.

Right now, what I want more than anything is literary comfort food. My world is uncomfortable and unstable and scary, and I want safety and security and to know that what I read is going to give me what I want.

I want comfort food in everything, right now. I want safe, comfy Elizabeth Ann Scarborough and Charles DeLint novels, I want to eat macaroni and cheese, and fried egg sandwiches. I want to wear my old battered sandals and watch reruns and sit in my favorite spot on the sofa and listen to songs I know all the words to.

Someday I'll be experimental again. Once my world and my life are no longer in constant turmoil. I hope.

Comments

[browngirl.livejournal.com]

The only use I can think of for a copy of Eragon is smacking people who say that only women write Mary Sue-type characters. I hope you regain the hours of your life you lost to that book.

[denimskater.livejournal.com]

That is so not true about Eragon. It also makes a fine drink coaster or paperweight, and it's FULL of kindling!

[browngirl.livejournal.com]

Coaster! I should have thought of that. And as a paperweight it's only improved by gluing the pages shut, which would improve it in general.

Unfortunately, if I burn a book I break out in hives, no matter how deserving the text.

[denimskater.livejournal.com]

Burning a book is a matter of intent... I submit that a knee-jerk "NO" is just as irrational a response as burning a book because you disagree with it. In the case of Eragon, I wouldn't be burning it from malice, but from a desire to start a fire using the most appropriate material at hand. If I had newspaper, I'd use that, but Eragon would be far preferable to any other bound paper I own.

Besides, I could just burn the last half a few pages at a time, and no one sensible would ever notice.

Also, book-burning isn't as big a deal as it used to be. Consider the relative scarcity of books when it WAS a big deal, as opposed to now when it would take a Herculean effort to burn even a fraction of the copies of Eragon that are out there.

For thought: Gluing the pages together is functionally identical to burning the book.

[browngirl.livejournal.com]

Globally I agree with you; this is just me and my irrational hives.

This discussion made me remember what I did with the copy of Eragon that plagued me briefly; I think I abandoned it on public transit and prayed for forgiveness from whatever poor soul picked it up and tried to read it. I was going to leave it in a doctor's waiting room, but I didn't want to kill anyone.