Sunday, April 18, 2004
(8:54 PM) | Anonymous:
The Art of Reading Fiction
In Adam's defense, feeling sorry for not reading fiction is probably as damning in popular culture as actually reading it. I remember reading some short piece of prose back in high school that was probably quoted from another source; it was about how those people that truly love reading would probably prefer a good book to most kinds of social interaction, and that, upon death, would find in heaven a rather lackluster eternity awaiting them, unless they had access to their favorite books. Then they would gladly wander off to some quiet corner, away from the hullabaloo of praise and celebration, and enjoy a view moments of quietude.
I imagine that I am one of those kinds of people. It hardly matters whether I'm reading something new and interesting, or something I that I could probably recite from memory; the act of reading itself is an enjoyable experience, and one that I make a part of my everyday routine. Eating, cleaning, working, even showering; all of these are made far more enjoyable with part of your brain listening to John Steinbeck defend the working man, or Tolkien explaining the geography of Middle Earth, or anything like that. Needless to say, spending all of your time in your head gives you a pretty raging inferiority complex. So stop making fun of me.
Love, Michael.
