I can’t decide if I actually love long books (Moby Dick, Brothers Karamozov… something else I’d like to brag about having read…) or if I just like to brag about having read them. Probably the former… probably the reason I struggle with poetry.
If a novel can sprawl I have plenty of time to swim around… find my way… If / when I pick up a book of verse I quickly find myself on overload- like a blaring radio and TV and toast burning and a fan blowing on my face all at once.
I can’t remember the last novel I finished- that wasn’t YA lit- (City of Ember series probably last YA romp…) I started reading The Elegance of the Hedgehog (which reads like I imagine our blog reading- dueling narrators- only we won’t use as many GRE vocab words…) Anyway- I have Midnight’s Children on a bookshelf waiting for me… so many beautiful texts waiting for me… college was a whirlwind of reading frantically to cram as much as possible into my wee brain- but at least I was forced to read…
Originally posted by Sally.