Sorry, it's been such a long time since my last post. There hasn't been enough time for reading and other bookly joys since I took on a long-term substitute teaching position. (Yes, I am still reading Drown.) Here's a quick post to share the following Wisdom Nugget:
A Wrinkle in Time. Where have you been all of my life?
Reading A Wrinkle in Time was more than experiencing a literary adventure, it was reliving a magical childhood.
Within 190 (oh-so-short) pages, L'Engle manages to create a wonderful blend of excitement, humor, and genuine emotion.
As we join Meg, her brother Charles Wallace, and her sweetheart Calvin on a mission to rescue Meg and Charles Wallace's father (as well as stop the earth from succumbing to The Black Thing), we learn, as Meg does, that there is only one thing that can save any of us--LUURRRVVVEEE.
Also, can we discuss this bad-a** cover? They don't make book covers like this anymore. I love how unique and fascinating older fantasy and science fiction often book covers are. They are actual works of art. Look at those stunning pastel colors in those delicate wings. The contrast of shadow and subtle light. The floating, green mug with the glowing, red eyes in a crystal ball. I love it!
And Meg. Okay, I admit a love-hate thing with children's books. I love the stories, but I often hate the characters. I sometimes find it difficult to connect with young protagonists, unless the writer is quite adapt at their craft, which L'Engle-darling most definitely is. I found all three of the main young characters utterly endearing.
Stop and call the presses! THERE. IS. A. SEQUEL. A Wind in the Door. Oh yea, you know I'm searching for that baby as soon as possible.
Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes to sorrow it. (130)
But when he bent to see into the boy's face under the hood of the blanket he very much feared that something was gone that could not be put right again. (136)
The Road. Where do I even begin speaking about The Road? Should I start with the simplistic, yet emotionally charged poetry disguised as prose? What about the complex characterization of characters that remain nameless even at the very end? Oh and the brutal, powerful wasteland backdrop. Can't forget about that.
The Road centers about a father and son pair as they wander around a destitute and dying earth. It isn't what one expects from a traditional dystopian novel in that there isn't a sense of adventure or of a protagonist "saving" the world.
There isn't much of a plot actually. Just a whole lot of feels. Rather than events, it's raw emotion that is the driving force in this novel. Fear, regret, grief, anger. Shining brightly through these darker feelings is a beam of hope and love. That is what keeps not only the boy and his father going, but it's what keeps readers reading as well.
The most impressive aspect of the novel, attesting to McCarthy's skill, is that even with minimal character detail (heck, we never even get names), I was able to forge a incredibly strong connection with the boy and his papa and felt deep concern for them. (I call this the McCarthy Effect, which is minimal words=maximum feels.) For 200+ pages, my heart was lodged in my throat as I breathlessly read, hoping that the two of them would somehow find their place in this horrid version of their previous world. And when that happened at the end . . . I was far too invested to be able to control the tears in my eyes.
Final Verdict:
Princess Reads A Lot absolutely LOVES this book! She is
captivated, enamored, enchanted, and fascinated, otherwise irrevocably
in love. She has found yet another literary prince charming and is in
bliss.
The Road isn't the most exciting read if you're looking for something plot-driven. I can understand why I wasn't able to finish it in high school. I wasn't ready for it back then. The power of McCarthy's writing is in that the alternation from dense, descriptions of a harsh setting to simple, raw interactions between the father and son and back. It's the juxtaposition of desolate landscape and beating hearts, desertion and companionship, death and love that grabs hold of a reader and doesn't let go even days after turning the final page.
At the core, The Road is a powerful work about survival, hope, and love in the midst of utter devastation. For that alone, it is a worthy read.
Now the question that remains is whether or not my poor, tender heart can handle watching the movie. I don't think I can! That trailer though. Take a look below:
Currently Reading: A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle.
I'm currently reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy, after years of planning to give it another try. Sometimes only a meme can express how one is feeling:
To which I respond, "Yes, and there's nothing I can do to help them, except cry, continue reading, and hope everything works out."
I tend to be pretty anal about the condition of the books that I own and/or read. Having vowed to just say no to dog-earring, creased spines, torn covers/pages, lost book jackets, mysterious stains, and the likee, I often stay away from used books.
But (bet you saw that coming a mile away), there is something special about reading a book previously owned by a fellow book lover. There's joy in deciphering the notes in the margins to reveal the previous owner's thoughts and feelings as they read the same book. By adding my own notes, I enter a conversation with Mr. or Ms. Previous Owner, who soon feels like a close friend. This is even more profound when you know owners by their names or even know them personally.
During my junior year, I had a blast reading Jean Anyon's "Social Class and the Hidden Curriculum of Work" because the previous owner, Mary (so inscribed on the inside cover), had highlighting important notes and written her insights in the margins. I amused myself by thinking/writing things like: "Wow, Mary. I hadn't thought of that," "Ditto, Mary," and "Mary, you know you my girl, but I gots to disagree here." Yes, I know, I'm far too easily amused.
Now, I'm currently reading Managing the Interactive Classroom by Kay Burke, which is a part of the education book haul I received from my splendid mentor teacher. I feel so close to her whenever I encounter her notes, laughing quietly whenever I can't read them because her handwriting had been a running joke between us. Even more fascinating is realizing how aligned her comments/highlights are with her eventually teaching style and methods as I witnessed them. She used what she learned.
Is it yay or nay to used books? I say, both. There's something for leaving your own mark on a brand spanking new book. However, the connection between book owners is worth experiencing as well.
