Roz Warren's Blog - Posts Tagged "reading"
War and Peas
Some people feel obligated to finish reading every book they start. Once they pick up a book, even if it’s hundreds of pages long and makes them want to scream with boredom, they will reach that last page if it kills them.
I am not one of those people. It’s not that I don’t love books. One reason I work in a public library is so I can read any book I want. If it’s not in our collection, it can be ordered from outside the system.
I make use of this service so often that the reference librarian in charge of ordering hard-to-find books from other libraries has joked that she wants to hide under her desk whenever she sees me coming. But even after she’s moved heaven and earth to locate a book in some itty bitty library in Nowhere, Pennsylvania and it has made the long journey across the state and into my hands, if it doesn’t grab me by chapter two, I’m sending it back.
I never feel compelled to finish a book. In fact, I rarely even feel INCLINED to finish a book. I will only keep reading if a book is so great that I CAN’T put it down.
A library patron recently told me that I absolutely had to read “The “Poisonwood Bible.“
“I tried to read it,“ I said. “I gave up after two chapters.“
“It took me fifty pages to get into it,” she admitted. “You have to give it a chance.”
I did. I gave it twenty minutes of my life. That’s all it’s going to get.
When I do fall for a book, I fall hard. I read it, and reread it, and recommend it endlessly. I’m the best friend a book could ever have, because I will bring that book scads of new readers. If there’s one question you’re asked when you work in a library, it’s “Can you recommend a good read?“
I’m convinced that I’m personally responsible for several extra print runs of both “Straight Man” and “Bel Canto.”
Book clubs are particularly pernicious for the reader who feels compelled to plough through books she can’t stand out of a sense of obligation.
A patron recently confided, “I have to read ‘Moby Dick‘ for my book club but it’s making me seasick.”
“Don’t worry,“ I told her. “I can help you jump ship.“
I printed out some insightful online reviews and she left the library smiling, prepared to discuss the Great White Whale but intending to go right home and curl up with the new Paretsky.
All I want is a book that will keep me up till two in the morning turning pages. I refuse to settle for less. The way I look at it, people who suffer to the end of a novel are like people who stay in bad marriages. But if the thrill is gone, I want out! Years ago, my ex and I pulled the plug on a twenty-year relationship. Now I’m with a guy who is consistently thrilling, and my ex is happily re-married to the true love of his life. I call that a happy ending.
Some people disapprove of my ability to jettison a book so quickly. “Once I start reading, I have to finish,“ they say proudly. I’m guessing these are the same people whose parents made them clean their plates when they were kids. They probably had to choke down every last pea, even if they hated peas, before they could enjoy dessert.
But you’re a grown up now! You can make (and break!) your own rules. If you aren’t enjoying your peas, feed them to the dog and try some spinach instead. Even better, toss them in the trash and go right to dessert! Who cares that you’ve only read five chapters of “War and Peace?“ “The Sylvia Chronicles” is calling to you! Kick Tolstoy under the couch and go with the book you really want. Life is too short (and “War and Peace” is too damn long) to do anything else.
I am not one of those people. It’s not that I don’t love books. One reason I work in a public library is so I can read any book I want. If it’s not in our collection, it can be ordered from outside the system.
I make use of this service so often that the reference librarian in charge of ordering hard-to-find books from other libraries has joked that she wants to hide under her desk whenever she sees me coming. But even after she’s moved heaven and earth to locate a book in some itty bitty library in Nowhere, Pennsylvania and it has made the long journey across the state and into my hands, if it doesn’t grab me by chapter two, I’m sending it back.
I never feel compelled to finish a book. In fact, I rarely even feel INCLINED to finish a book. I will only keep reading if a book is so great that I CAN’T put it down.
A library patron recently told me that I absolutely had to read “The “Poisonwood Bible.“
“I tried to read it,“ I said. “I gave up after two chapters.“
“It took me fifty pages to get into it,” she admitted. “You have to give it a chance.”
I did. I gave it twenty minutes of my life. That’s all it’s going to get.
When I do fall for a book, I fall hard. I read it, and reread it, and recommend it endlessly. I’m the best friend a book could ever have, because I will bring that book scads of new readers. If there’s one question you’re asked when you work in a library, it’s “Can you recommend a good read?“
I’m convinced that I’m personally responsible for several extra print runs of both “Straight Man” and “Bel Canto.”
Book clubs are particularly pernicious for the reader who feels compelled to plough through books she can’t stand out of a sense of obligation.
A patron recently confided, “I have to read ‘Moby Dick‘ for my book club but it’s making me seasick.”
“Don’t worry,“ I told her. “I can help you jump ship.“
I printed out some insightful online reviews and she left the library smiling, prepared to discuss the Great White Whale but intending to go right home and curl up with the new Paretsky.
All I want is a book that will keep me up till two in the morning turning pages. I refuse to settle for less. The way I look at it, people who suffer to the end of a novel are like people who stay in bad marriages. But if the thrill is gone, I want out! Years ago, my ex and I pulled the plug on a twenty-year relationship. Now I’m with a guy who is consistently thrilling, and my ex is happily re-married to the true love of his life. I call that a happy ending.
Some people disapprove of my ability to jettison a book so quickly. “Once I start reading, I have to finish,“ they say proudly. I’m guessing these are the same people whose parents made them clean their plates when they were kids. They probably had to choke down every last pea, even if they hated peas, before they could enjoy dessert.
But you’re a grown up now! You can make (and break!) your own rules. If you aren’t enjoying your peas, feed them to the dog and try some spinach instead. Even better, toss them in the trash and go right to dessert! Who cares that you’ve only read five chapters of “War and Peace?“ “The Sylvia Chronicles” is calling to you! Kick Tolstoy under the couch and go with the book you really want. Life is too short (and “War and Peace” is too damn long) to do anything else.
Adultery? For Me, It's A Big Yawn
I’ve read thousands of books, from trashy beach fiction to great works of literature. And here’s my conclusion:
I am tired of reading about adultery.
True, a lot of great writers have tackled this topic. And some terrific books have resulted. Madame Bovary. Anna Karenina. The Scarlet Letter. I’ve read and enjoyed many of them.
Not only that, but John Cheever happens to be one of my favorite authors, and it’s certainly true that if you remove all the extra-marital shenanigans from his ouevre, you wouldn’t be left with much more than a symbolic swimming pool and a magic radio.
There’s plenty of great literature about infidelity. But there’s a whole lot of not-so-great literature as well. It’s a basic fall-back plot device for just about everyone who wants to write a novel.
And I say enough.
This isn’t a moral position on my part. While I don’t engage in adultery myself these days, my (now defunct ) marriage began as an adulterous relationship, so I‘m in no position to claim the moral high ground. It’s just that I’m so damn tired of reading about cheating hearts.
I’ll begin a new book. I’m enjoying the writing, relishing the voice, and starting to care about the characters. Until it becomes clear that the plot is going to boil down to who beds whom.
Really? Again?
I know what you’re saying: adultery novels have endured because it remains an ever-fresh, timeless topic. I beg to differ. It’s always exactly the same. A and B are together. Will A stay with B or end up with C? (Or maybe even with D?)
Yawn.
Say you’re a writer. Do you really think you can add to or improve upon what John Cheever or John Updike (not to mention F. Scott Fitzgerald) had to say about hanky panky?
Trust me. You can’t.
After a life spent reading about every possible variation on the theme of people attempting to escape the bonds of holy matrimony, I’ve come to the point that whenever a book starts to turn into Yet Another Adultery Novel, I close it, return it to the library and try again.
Of the last five novels I checked out, three of them were about two-timing. The Girl On The Train. The Paris Wife. Gone Girl. I’m sure they’re terrific. I didn’t finish any of them.
I’m not much of a TV watcher, but I recently became a big fan of the BBC sci-fi series Doctor Who. Why? Well for one reason, there are 831 episodes, not a single one of which is about infidelity. The Doctor is an alien Time Lord who travels through space and time having adventures and battling hostile aliens. There are no illicit kisses, secret trysts or stolen moments. The Doctor doesn’t want to kiss your wife. He wants to defeat the Daleks and save your planet.
How refreshing is that?
Am I nuts to want to call a halt to all this adultery writing? Or at the very least, a moratorium? I can’t possibly be the only reader who has grown tired of this topic.
Writers! The next time you’re tempted to pen yet another novel about adultery, I dare you to write about something different. A marriage that endures. A multi-generational family saga with no illicit love affairs. A thriller with a female protagonist who fights crime, cracks jokes and kicks ass while wearing modest clothing and unfashionably comfortable shoes.
Please, just give it a try? Thanks.
Next up? Diet books! I say we purge our libraries and bookstores of every last one of them.
(Roz Warren is the author of OUR BODIES, OUR SHELVES: A COLLECTION OF LIBRARY HUMOR http://ow.ly/LpFgE This essay first appeared on THE BROAD STREET REVIEW.)
I am tired of reading about adultery.
True, a lot of great writers have tackled this topic. And some terrific books have resulted. Madame Bovary. Anna Karenina. The Scarlet Letter. I’ve read and enjoyed many of them.
Not only that, but John Cheever happens to be one of my favorite authors, and it’s certainly true that if you remove all the extra-marital shenanigans from his ouevre, you wouldn’t be left with much more than a symbolic swimming pool and a magic radio.
There’s plenty of great literature about infidelity. But there’s a whole lot of not-so-great literature as well. It’s a basic fall-back plot device for just about everyone who wants to write a novel.
And I say enough.
This isn’t a moral position on my part. While I don’t engage in adultery myself these days, my (now defunct ) marriage began as an adulterous relationship, so I‘m in no position to claim the moral high ground. It’s just that I’m so damn tired of reading about cheating hearts.
I’ll begin a new book. I’m enjoying the writing, relishing the voice, and starting to care about the characters. Until it becomes clear that the plot is going to boil down to who beds whom.
Really? Again?
I know what you’re saying: adultery novels have endured because it remains an ever-fresh, timeless topic. I beg to differ. It’s always exactly the same. A and B are together. Will A stay with B or end up with C? (Or maybe even with D?)
Yawn.
Say you’re a writer. Do you really think you can add to or improve upon what John Cheever or John Updike (not to mention F. Scott Fitzgerald) had to say about hanky panky?
Trust me. You can’t.
After a life spent reading about every possible variation on the theme of people attempting to escape the bonds of holy matrimony, I’ve come to the point that whenever a book starts to turn into Yet Another Adultery Novel, I close it, return it to the library and try again.
Of the last five novels I checked out, three of them were about two-timing. The Girl On The Train. The Paris Wife. Gone Girl. I’m sure they’re terrific. I didn’t finish any of them.
I’m not much of a TV watcher, but I recently became a big fan of the BBC sci-fi series Doctor Who. Why? Well for one reason, there are 831 episodes, not a single one of which is about infidelity. The Doctor is an alien Time Lord who travels through space and time having adventures and battling hostile aliens. There are no illicit kisses, secret trysts or stolen moments. The Doctor doesn’t want to kiss your wife. He wants to defeat the Daleks and save your planet.
How refreshing is that?
Am I nuts to want to call a halt to all this adultery writing? Or at the very least, a moratorium? I can’t possibly be the only reader who has grown tired of this topic.
Writers! The next time you’re tempted to pen yet another novel about adultery, I dare you to write about something different. A marriage that endures. A multi-generational family saga with no illicit love affairs. A thriller with a female protagonist who fights crime, cracks jokes and kicks ass while wearing modest clothing and unfashionably comfortable shoes.
Please, just give it a try? Thanks.
Next up? Diet books! I say we purge our libraries and bookstores of every last one of them.
(Roz Warren is the author of OUR BODIES, OUR SHELVES: A COLLECTION OF LIBRARY HUMOR http://ow.ly/LpFgE This essay first appeared on THE BROAD STREET REVIEW.)
