I am terrible at blogging because I am a perfectionist. In waiting for the best way to say something, for the time to upload good pictures of what I did last weekend, for myself to remember what I did last weekend, I end up posting nothing at all.
I am also a terrible blogger for the same reason I am a terrible photographer. I am always too preoccupied with the experience of what I am doing and the real-life things i could be doing that I hate to stop long enough to write anything down. I would rather just watch and enjoy the beautiful novelties I come across than miss them in my hurry to turn on my camera.
And also because i can never decide whether I prefer to capitalize or not capitalize.
And also because I'm quite enjoying my one-book-a-week-at-least regimen, which fills in all the little spaces in my day.
Last week I read
and this week I read
- two narratives dealing with neighborhood tragedy, suburban life, and family dysfunctionality. I didn't plan to read such similar novels back to back - I spotted the first on amazon and happened on the second on sale for $1 in a thrift store - though on first glance they are strikingly different, one narrated by an autistic 15 year old boy and the second narrated by a murdered middle school girl.
But both end in somewhat implausible redemption. The wayward mothers return to their abandoned families because their emotional stars finally align (moved by despair or tragedy) and point toward home. The remaining folks alive are happy, for a time. And I feel the way I feel at the end of triumphant war movies, even when the good guys win...the dog is still dead, Susie is still dead, the soldiers who died are still dead. When will this part of the story be resolved? That is the redemption I long for, the part the writers fail to deal with.
Of course, there are a lot of factors, both superficial and subtle, at play in these stories which are also well worth discussing, but I don't have time now because-you guessed it-the next book awaits (next in queue: Out of the Silent Planet). And I am still in the honeymoon phase of being able to read whatever I want, whenever I want, and have been granted glorious after-dinner hours in which to do it. And freshly roasted coffee to go with it (even if the roasting does make my kitchen smell funny). And I plan to enjoy this phase.
Taking suggestions for post-Space Trilogy reading...