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constanceI feel sure that I've mentioned before that I love to read, right? :D That I have a houseful of books and acquire more on a weekly basis, that I never feel the need to join those book-a-week communities because the idea of not reading/rereading fifty books a year is completely foreign to me, even if I rarely feel comfortable talking about them for fear of trying others' patience.
There are books I like and ones I am indifferent to and a few I simply loathe, but I'm rarely intimidated, once I open the covers, into not finishing. David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest nearly defeated me, though. It's a gigantic book, and it's dense and heavily endnoted, which is fine, except that I read and read without getting pulled in. (In fact, the only thing that kept me reading past, say, page 150, was the knowledge that it's A Certain Friend's favorite book and having started it I felt embarrassed not finishing it, on her account.) I read, I say, and read and read, flipping back and forth between the end notes, getting increasingly annoyed with David Foster Wallace for being so apparently willing to sacrifice everything worthwhile in his novel to his obsessive love for his own voice.
I remember the exact moment when that feeling changed for me, too, when it became clear to me that what I was reading was not so much a young man's thousand-page sploogefest (or do I mean spoogefest?) as what I am thinking is The Great American Novel made manifest. I can't tell you what that scene is without issuing some serious spoilers, but after my epiphany I settled in eagerly; and I am becoming increasingly aware as I read that this is possibly the finest instance of one of my own bulletproof kinks that I will ever see.
(Do you remember bulletproof kinks? Te, I think, is the one who first talked about them in conjunction with fandom. She was referring to porn when she put the term forward, but I think it can be applied in a more general sense, too, to any concept or scenario which will move you unbearably every time you read it (no matter how mediocre its execution).)
My bulletproof kink centers around what I've come to think of as a new and peculiarly American form of tragedy, built around a group of people, all bright and funny and/or quirky, whose primary impetus seems to be engaging, and who fail, utterly or maybe just barely, to engage, almost every time they try. The overshots and undershots and near-misses, everyone terribly, frighteningly isolated and nearly irreparably damaged because of it, which makes the rare connections, when they do come, all the more poignant and dear, and throws the misses into sharp relief.
Okay, I've got off-point here. My points are these:
(1) I am reading Infinite Jest. I am enjoying it very much. If you feel the urge to read, hang in there. It is worth any effort you put into it.
(2) Do you have literary bulletproof kinks? What are they?
There are books I like and ones I am indifferent to and a few I simply loathe, but I'm rarely intimidated, once I open the covers, into not finishing. David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest nearly defeated me, though. It's a gigantic book, and it's dense and heavily endnoted, which is fine, except that I read and read without getting pulled in. (In fact, the only thing that kept me reading past, say, page 150, was the knowledge that it's A Certain Friend's favorite book and having started it I felt embarrassed not finishing it, on her account.) I read, I say, and read and read, flipping back and forth between the end notes, getting increasingly annoyed with David Foster Wallace for being so apparently willing to sacrifice everything worthwhile in his novel to his obsessive love for his own voice.
I remember the exact moment when that feeling changed for me, too, when it became clear to me that what I was reading was not so much a young man's thousand-page sploogefest (or do I mean spoogefest?) as what I am thinking is The Great American Novel made manifest. I can't tell you what that scene is without issuing some serious spoilers, but after my epiphany I settled in eagerly; and I am becoming increasingly aware as I read that this is possibly the finest instance of one of my own bulletproof kinks that I will ever see.
(Do you remember bulletproof kinks? Te, I think, is the one who first talked about them in conjunction with fandom. She was referring to porn when she put the term forward, but I think it can be applied in a more general sense, too, to any concept or scenario which will move you unbearably every time you read it (no matter how mediocre its execution).)
My bulletproof kink centers around what I've come to think of as a new and peculiarly American form of tragedy, built around a group of people, all bright and funny and/or quirky, whose primary impetus seems to be engaging, and who fail, utterly or maybe just barely, to engage, almost every time they try. The overshots and undershots and near-misses, everyone terribly, frighteningly isolated and nearly irreparably damaged because of it, which makes the rare connections, when they do come, all the more poignant and dear, and throws the misses into sharp relief.
Okay, I've got off-point here. My points are these:
(1) I am reading Infinite Jest. I am enjoying it very much. If you feel the urge to read, hang in there. It is worth any effort you put into it.
(2) Do you have literary bulletproof kinks? What are they?
no subject
Date: 2007-01-20 03:19 pm (UTC)Also, your bulletproof kink sounds wonderful. I'm trying, but due to my undercaffeinated state, unable, to think of examples of this kink in things that I've read. Can you toss out any popular examples?
One of my bulletproof kink is Great Depression-style "making do"- I cannot resist stories that feature people in hard times, finding ways to stretch resources, pool resources, or invent resources to get by. Not so much the "rags to riches" scenario; I kind of prefer it when life doesn't suddenly become glittery, but maybe just a little less meager.
Another is anything to do with communal living; boarding school, prison, the military, communes, kibbutzim, etc. (My family has teased me my whole life about lining up cots for dolls in grim little rows, and posting rigid bathroom privilege rules.) The dynamic of asserting/maintaining one's individuality in this sort of "everyone gets the same ration" environment is endlessly alluring to me.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-20 03:53 pm (UTC)I want examples too, though! I can think of examples of both of your great bulletproof kinks, I think (The Long Winter, or One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest), but I want to see yours! I am suddenly thinking this might be an excellent way to rec things you love, and ways for me to find new and interesting things to read.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-21 04:26 am (UTC)The Long Winter was one of the "making do" stories I had in mind. I mean, really, you can't get more resourceful than twisting hay into logs till your hands bleed. Other "creative deprivation" all-time favorites are Homecoming, by Cynthia Voigt and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, both of which I'm sure you're familiar with.
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest!! I totally forgot about that one. Another favorite is Midnight Express (I grew up on the movie, but the book was good, too), and One More River by Lynn Reid Banks (she rewrote this one and CHANGED it, though, and now I can't find an older, uncorrupted copy), and Back Home, by Michelle Magorian. And OMG, anything Amish, because that hits both the communal/conformity kink AND the victory gardenish home economy kink at the same time. Too bad stories with an Amish setting are scarcer than hen's teeth.
Aiee! Sorry to go on so long! As long as I'm exceeding my word limit, though, I'll mention that I hope you decide to mention more of the books you're reading, because your description of them and the things you notice about literature are really interesting and inspiring. Okay. Done now. :))))
no subject
Date: 2007-01-23 12:55 am (UTC)I read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn as a teenager, and I'm afraid I don't remember too much about it -- I think I still own a copy, though, and I should pick it back up, and of the the others you mention I've only read Homecoming (which you're right, was amazing). Yay for new books to read!
Isn't it fun trying to think of things that fit into these categories for you? I've had fun all weekend thinking of more.