8th February, 2010 by Christina - No Comments
As I re-read all the original Love & Books posts, a theme began to emerge that I discussed in Redux Part 1. It’s not the act of reading or the books themselves that attract us to other people, but what the books say about them and their world view and whether or not that image fits with the values of the viewer. We judge them based on our own experiences and beliefs, which for readers are often developed through books. In the original Love & Books post “Judge The One You’re With” I wrote:
Possibly one of the reasons we judge people based on the books we read is that we recognize how books have shaped our perceptions of the world. Similar to the way romantic comedies slightly color how women hope to have their own “meet-cute,” books can do the same, and not just in regard to meeting the love of our lives. We change our eating habits, our politics, our fascination with slugs, and so on because we have a relationship with the books as well as with a gamut of emotions that are manipulated by the words on the page.
Recently, I began reading the site Ophelia’s Webb thanks to a guest series titled “All You Need.” Each writer takes a stab at exploring what love is to them. Carlos Miceli explored the idea of what love really is and the fact that movies often color our expectations in the post “Is It Really Love?“ In the comments, readers of the blog discussed how movies shape our desires and perceptions of love. Books do the same thing. Ask any ardent fan of Jane Austen and they will often tell you that they are waiting on their own Mr. Darcy. Austen is considered to be the grandmother of the “chick-lit” novel–books about meeting someone and falling in love.
However, her themes often run deeper than modern ”chick-lit”, addressing circumstances of women in her own time. I pointed out in the comments that love as we know it today is very different from what it once was. Austen’s heroines married because they had to. Because women had no income or rights other than what was provided by father, brother, or husband. Lizzie Bennett is one of the earliest examples of a literary woman insisting on marrying for love in a time where liking your husband meant you lucked out. Not all of Austen’s characters marry for love the way Lizzie and her sister Jane do. Marianne in Sense & Sensibility falls in love as it is presented in movies–the heady and passionate whirlwind of lust–only to have her heart broken before agreeing to marry the constant, loyal, and kind Colonel Brandon who can provide for her.
Love alone can’t carry a relationship because while we all share a generalized view, our own personal definitions of the word vary, and we all require our own concept of traits that create a successful relationship and make up a cohesive whole that we consider love. There is more to it than fluffy clouds and long days spent in bed. Love for each person is an amalgamation of feelings and values, one of the most agreed upon being respect. It is a key ingredient in love that makes both arranged marriages and marriages for love work. If you cannot respect your partner, how can you expect to like them, much less love them?
Much as we may want our partner to share our love of reading, what is more important is simply their ability to respect our need to find time to read. Likewise, we must respect them for their literary choices and give them time to pursue the things that they enjoy–things that make us love them for who they are in the first place. When I asked “Could You Love A Non-Reader?” it was reiterated to me that respect was a key component in making love what it is.
Ultimately, the key to a strong relationship is respect between both partners. As much as the avid reader may want to date another reader, we can’t always predict who we fall in love with. Sometimes that other person does not read much, if at all. This is where respect comes into play. One reader, Linda, let us know that in past relationships she was made to feel guilty about the time she spent reading and not paying attention to the other person. The guilting from her partners was not respectful to her interests. Linda is now married. ”My husband respects my choice to read and tries not to interrupt me while I’m reading.” Referring back to Marge, reading is a hobby and we need to respect our partner’s choices to spend time on their hobbies, whether they be reading, building a tiny ship in a bottle, or learning circus hula-hooping, and in turn we require them to respect our choices.
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5th February, 2010 by Christina - No Comments
I haven’t done a Stacked Stacks in awhile, and despite this photo of a shelf designed by Mike and Maaike having been around for quite some time, I wanted to share it with you all.
When we talk about books making us think, we often mean that the content of the book sparked our curiosity or caused us to contemplate and analyze our long-held beliefs (or in some cases, define what we believe).
Rarely do we mean anything beyond that. What makes this shelf so amazing is its combination of design (notches cut to the size of individual books) and its ability to turn design into art. Like books, art often makes us think–there is a message or implied meaning to paintings and sculptures, especially when the subject matter is religious in nature. What you can’t see in the long shot is that these books are,
The world’s most influential religious texts brought together and presented on the same level, their coexistence acknowledged and celebrated. -apartment therapy*
A commenter on Apartment Therapy described the shelf as a way to showcase “sacred objects”–in this case, the book’s contents are considered sacred to their respective religions. But sacred object can also be something more personal.
Displaying your books doesn’t have to just be about what looks pretty on the shelves or an arrangement idea you swiped from a catalog. The arrangement of books can say something about their content and their owner. The way you display them can be a work of art in their own right, a way to share a message or an idea.
Remember, meaning does not just have to exist between the covers.
*The comments in reply to the AT post prove the powers of art and books to make us think. Members of the site had a few thought provoking things to say such as: [More after the jump] (more…)
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4th February, 2010 by Christina - 2 Comments
After the Love & Books series was completed, I occasionally received notes telling me how much a reader enjoyed the series or their own thoughts on the questions and topics covered in the series.
Two different replies to my initial survey and kick-off post, Love In The Stacks, vetted the same idea–reading is a hobby. We often want the people we decide to date to have similar interests, but what I learned from these responses is that it’s not the hobbies themselves that are important, but the approach to life. Dating someone with hobbies and interests that you don’t share (or vice versa–they don’t share yours) can be a way to explore and learn about new things. In fact, wouldn’t dating a carbon copy of yourself be rather dull?
No two people are exactly alike. You will have your interests and they will have theirs. Not all hobbies will mesh, and that can lead to discord (you like to travel the world, they have no interest in leaving the town they grew up in), but others can be complimentary to one another. If your partner has no interest in reading it doesn’t mean you have to stop. It just means that you have to schedule your time appropriately–maybe you read while they work on that ship in a bottle or bring a book with you to their weekly softball game.
Respect is important in a relationship–you must respect their hobbies and interests while they must respect yours. Go ahead and use their interests as inspiration for the books you buy. They love space? Find an astronaut’s memoir and see if it will help you understand why they find the subject so fascinating. You don’t have to develop an undying love, you simply need to understand.
In the comments for the first Love & Books post, Marcelo made this observation:
For me it was never about someone who reads or doesn’t read as much as finding someone who was interested in something, a learner who isn’t above finding new things and trying new ideas out for size.
Readers are by nature curious. Through books we are constantly learning and must respect that for some people reading is not easy (various learning and reading disabilities) and that one can still have that same curious approach to life through other avenues of exploration.
My favorite part of the post touched on the theme as well:
All of this got me thinking about the people we choose to date. I’ve dated plenty of non-geeks and there’s a reason I think those relationships didn’t work out. There was a mental disconnect–we wanted to talk about different things. When one date mentioned (proudly) that he hadn’t picked up a book since high school, I should have been tipped off to run the other way. Our approaches to life were drastically different and we had nothing to talk about for the handful of months we were together. I learned through these relationships and through my singledom what it was I wanted in a partner, how I expected to be treated, and a lot about myself.
There’s a quote that came my way not too long ago. I have no clue where it came from, but it struck a chord with me and I’d love to give credit where credit is due:
Don’t date someone who’s exciting. Date someone who is interesting.
That’s the thing about geeks–those of us who read a lot and like to share what we got out of the book or who have really odd hobbies have a wealth of stuff to talk about. When you and the person you are with have a variety of interests, it opens new worlds of things to try, learn, and talk about even if your interests are different.
It wasn’t so much that there were no books in their homes as the fact that those exes had a complacent approach to life or whose existance centered around partying that did not work for me. I was dating exciting men who went out every night of the week, who were bold and charismatic–it was definitely exciting to be with the man that other women wanted, who would buy rounds of drinks, and get past the velvet rope. But there was little substance underneath that partying.
Where I found inspiration in books, someone else found it in music or movies or sports. It wasn’t the fact that they were not readers that made the relationships fail–it was the fact that we had vastly different approaches to life that were reflected in our interests.
Looking at my parents’ relationship, I can see this clearly–my mother has no interest in space or physics, but she understands that these are things my father loves–things that motivate and inspire him. So she attends his model rocket launches and listens to him explain some mumbo-jumbo that sounds like a the teacher in Peanuts cartoons. Likewise, you will find him helping her scroll through microfiche to find some elusive birth certificate as she tracks down the family tree. They have their shared interests and they have their time to individually go to their own thing.
What attracts us to someone in the first place is someone’s uniqueness. It would be a shame to lose that in the interest of only dating people just like ourselves.
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3rd February, 2010 by Christina - 2 Comments
Do you follow Stacked on Twitter? Yes?
You many have noticed a link I recently include to the ever popular Time Out New York Singles Issue that is put out every February. Yours truly has been included this year. As I’m not particularly a fan of online dating and matchmaking services, writing a profile (three simple questions) was not at all easy!
The most difficult was: ”What makes you a great catch?” Say what? I know why I like me–but what is it that makes guys like me? I asked a number of male friends and they had some awesome responses that I almost used (Rik–who was featured in the issue last year: “I’m cute, I’m smart, I’ve got my shit together,” Ryan: ”Brains, Boobs, Brass”), but my favorite conversation came from Matt as we tried to put that special something into words:
You are a catch because you are constantly trying to figure out ways to be even geekier.
I need to word that better but what I think is so awesome about you is that it seems like every time I talk to you, you’re like, “OMG, so I decided I am going to learn ancient Macedonian this weekend” or “I saw a picture of Leonard Nimoy on the subway today so I decided to start watching Star Trek.”
With Valentine’s Day approaching and my single status plastered in a magazine all over New York, I’ve ended up with dating on the brain. You may recall that I did a series last year called Love & Books wherein I surveyed people to find out how books play a role in dating, sex, and relationships. The series started with a post about Word’s new matchmaking services–a literary-based personals board. Actually, that board was the inspiration for the series. The board has been up for a year now, and while I didn’t get any responses (rather than feeling bad about my book preferences, we’re going to blame my handwriting), some regulars in the shop have been a little luckier. Time Out New York wrote up an article that featured a few of the success stories (Russ Marshalek and Marley Magaziner) and still singles (Sherry Wasserman, who was the inspiration for the board) two weeks ago.*
Over the course of the year, I’ve seen a few articles on the subject of reading and its impact on relationship in magazines, newspapers, and other blogs. Love and relationship are a regular “go-to” topic, and people who are passionate about their books often hope to find the same in a partner.
So, from now until Valentine’s Day, in between reviews and rants about books, there will be the return of LOVE & BOOKS!!!! It was a popular series and things change over time, so I’ll showcase some of my favorite passages and links and would love to hear how people feel about the subjects covered a year later.
*I’ve met Russ briefly, but I am a fan of his on Twitter. His tweets are obnoxiously awesome. I had a chance to chat with Sherry at the Word/TONY singles mixer, and she is adorably fantastic.
** I’d also like to note that in the picture, the upper right is a photo of Rachel Kramer Bussel of the In The Flesh reading series fame.
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2nd February, 2010 by Christina - 3 Comments
Most weekends I walk. It’s a form of meditation that clears the mind and opens my eyes to new things that have always been right before me. Some days I choose to meander around the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens, an excursion that often ends up with me in the dirt trying to capture a moment with my camera or lugging home yet another plant and some soil. Other days I prefer Prospect Park with its many paths leading to new discoveries and the calm or chaos that comes with different weather, people, a zoo, and fences that get in my way.
It is surprising to find a book dedicated to the history of walking. No one talks about walking just as no one talks about breathing. Walking and breathing are simply things we do. Unless you are trying to become healthier by improving your stride or folding into a pose during a yoga class, walking and breathing just happen on the periphery.
I have walked (to the dismay of my mother) through a good portion of Brooklyn late at night. There comes a point when you realize that the amount of time you will wait for a bus and the ride stopping every two blocks to a transfer bus will take longer than to just walk home. What could take over an hour in vehicular travel ends up taking forty minutes on foot. That is forty minutes of free time with no obligations, free time to explore your surroundings without worrying about bumping into other pedestrians. The streets of the city, especially late at night, are scary because we imbue them with fear that festers after news reports. But we only hear of the occasional crime because it is more interesting than the many times crime does not happen. By refusing to give into the fear we are able to take back our walks and the night. That doesn’t mean one shouldn’t be alert at all times and judge which blocks or neighborhoods are safer to walk along.
Vehicular travel has changed our perception of space. A destination of a few blocks seems so much further when we debate the time it takes to get there by foot or by car. But what we are comparing is not two equal scenarios. What we are comparing is the worst of cases on foot to the best of cases in a car–no traffic, no lights, no one way streets. By foot we have more options and our time is controlled by our own pace and not by others on the road or city planners. Walking is freedom.
In college, I was laughed at for suggesting we walk to the grocery store rather than drive. A small town along a busy road from large place to large place, the walk would have taken approximately 15 minutes as campus and store were on the same side of the street. The trip by car took close to half an hour when you included the time it took to walk from the dorms to the student parking lot, maneuvering through the parking lot, waiting at the light to join the traffic on the busy road, passing the grocery store to get onto the other side of the median, and then finding a parking space and walking from car to store. On foot (a trip made alone), I would cut between two dorms, across the football field and a small side road up to the motion sensor activated doors of the grocery.
Solnit started her book Wanderlust: A History of Walking in the manner that is almost tradition amongst writers–with a walk. And walking isn’t just relegated to the process; it often finds its way into the pages of some of our most beloved authors as they use walks to showcase thoughts or social standing or environment. Even lyrics of music are littered with walking terms: life is a journey, not a destination–it’s also a highway, Otis Redding walked 2000 miles to make this dock his home, while others have gone walking after midnight. We’ve even destroyed our ability to walk by paving paradise and putting up a parking lot. Our language is filled with terms and metaphors of walking, and periodically Solnit lists them in relation to the chapter.
A great deal happens when we’re walking. Writers often explain that they aren’t wasting time staring out a window or taking the dog for a walk; that happens to be where the magic lies, not in front of a computer screen. Walking is where disparate ideas start to take shape into something tangible. Walking lets us think through problems, reaffirm faith (pilgrimages), return to nature (hiking), and share our opinions (protest marches).
There’s a reason we add the word “lust” to “wander.” Walking awakens new desires and passions in us. Reading a book, a good book, does much the same and becomes a mental walk. Looking at the social and cultural implications of walk, Solnit talks about the various taboos and world changing events that have come about due to walking such as the Million Man March or the first ascent of Mt. Everest. From a sign of poverty to an aristocratic pastime, walking has been a way to show off, to court, to be alone, to observe.
Walking is a way to analyze a culture–what does it say about past societies where women were restricted to walking around the living room, where blacks are afraid to leave urban centers, where minorities are licensed and restricted to where they are allowed to walk “for their own safety” only to be pushed further into crime and punishment for the unenforceability of the illogical laws, and tanks will run over walking students asking for change? All are things that have happened within the past two centuries.
Some of the chapters are fascinating, such as the look at why man came down out of the trees (one theory suggesting that it lead to the eventual quest for the booze), while others are horrific in describing the things achieved by walking and the atrocities along the way (civil rights movement, suffrage, revolutions) and eventually Solnit looks into the future of walking as more and more public space is lost to roads and unwalkable city planning. The reading is a bit dense and slow going, but well worth a look.
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1st February, 2010 by Christina - 7 Comments
In normal day to day interactions, I’m so not melodramatic. In fact, I’m so laid back most of the time that I’ve gotten in trouble at work before for remaining levelheaded during minor crisis. Apparently, if you’re not freaking out over a printer jam preventing you from compiling a presentation due in twenty minutes, you just don’t care about your job.*
I do get a little excited over going to the zoo (case in point, my tweets this weekend) and building snowmen or cool trips I get to go on. But I wouldn’t describe my enthusiasm as melodramatic.
Except today, in which I am going to die.
You see, I rarely get sick. There’s lots of knocking on wood as I type that. I’ve had the flu twice in my life and rather minor cases of it at that. Never broken a bone, or sprained anything. Spend most of the winter without the sniffles.**
So when I get sick, even the minorist (is that a word?) of head colds–you might as well start preparing my eulogy. I am going to die because my sinuses are slightly stuffed (I can still breathe and have no cough), and the tissues here at work suck. Actually, the nice thing about being rarely sick is that I can tell almost immediately when the cold is coming on and can combat it right away. Hello vitamin C and lots of sleep. Guns a blazin’ preventative measures here so that I spend a few days of existence a little uncomfortable rather than slipping into “death throes.”
The worst thing about being sick is the lack of concentration. And here we segue into books since this is a book blog. On those rare occasions where not only am I sick, but also actually sick enough to stay home and in bed all day, I like to read. Actually, I like to watch television since it’s pretty mindless, but alas, I don’t have one of those so mindless reading will have to do. But there really isn’t much you can do in the awake hours of being sick that still allow you to relax so that your immune system can do it’s thing. Reading, watching movies–they’re great for not requiring you to do much of anything provided you’re reading or watching something that is relatively interesting but not intense.
In high school I liked to read The Cat Who mystery series by Lillian Jackson Braun. They’re really easy to get through and I don’t need to worry about nodding off mid-way through one and having to reorient myself to the plot when I wake up. Problem is, I’ve now read the entire series and they only take about an hour to read.
So here I am at work finishing up my nth cup of hot honey water (so soothing on the throat) and debating on what I should have on hand for the next time I’m home curled up in bed (or under this super furry blanket I own while on the couch) when home sick. When you’re sick, you can’t really run out to the library or bookstore to pick something up, there have to be a few books tucked away for just such an occasion–books you’ve been dying to read or that require a lot of concentration don’t work because you’re brain feels like it’s floating and just needs light fluff.
So, questions for the day:
What are some mystery or chick-lit fluff recommendations (feel free to include why you love them UPDATE: and Sci-Fi and Fantasy are welcome too) that are perfect for days when you just can’t–or shouldn’t–get out of bed?
And, what are some of your home remedies for kicking a cold? I like to get plenty of sleep, drink lots of warm liquids, and eat soup and clementines. I’m also a big fan of not being schlumpy when out in public–comfortable may be nice but I’m all about the faux-optimism tricking your body into thinking it’s not sick.
*Remain level headed and just send the presentation to a printer on a different floor. It’s seriously NOT. THE END. OF. THE WORLD!
**For serious. Even when I had my wisdom teeth out, I thought I’d get a few days of couch crashing and movie watching at my parent’s place while Mom brought me ice cream and Jell-o. Nope, was fine–up and about and eating solid food that evening.
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27th January, 2010 by Christina - 2 Comments
I snapped this photo the other morning on the subway. The guy filled up about four pages in his Moleskine with notes on the book he was reading about Tarkovsky. Read, pull notebook and pen out of pocket, write, return notebook and pen to pocket. Repeat.
While I see a lot of readers during my commutes, I rarely see people taking notes about what they are reading. Writing in a moving vehicle is not easy. There are plenty of women who put on their make-up while on the trains, they carefully wait, feeling each bump and jolt before finding the perfect moment to apply their mascara. Often, those moments happen while the train is in the station.
Unlike applying one’s face, capturing one’s thoughts has an urgency to it–it cannot wait until pulling into the next station and stopping. There is also the desire to capture an idea immediately in order to continue reading.
While I do know avid note takers, I do not know many. When I see these rare beasts on the subway, I want to peer over their shoulder and see what ideas they are capturing. Some people have small handwriting in neat little rows. Others have arrows and blocks and scratches all over the place. This gentleman’s writing was so compact and orderly, perfect lines stretching across the page with the occasional scribbled out word.
Until the past year, I was never a note-taker. Read a book, maybe pause to ponder, and then move on. Note-taking has forced me to slow down a little and really focus on the words and their meaning. While I do eventually stop thinking so actively about a particular book or idea, I do find that the basis of what was being said sticks with me longer. It’s gotten to the point where I’ll write on just about anything–notepaper, envelopes, in a journal–just to capture and idea. And the idea can be anything–a quote, a continuation and break down to help myself understand, diagrams, suggestions for things to share here.
Of the types of note takers, I am the second sort. A mess of scribbles, circlings, and exclamation marks trying to make a point. Sometimes re-reading my notes a few months after they have graced the page, I have no clue what I was trying to say. Other times the notes re-inspire me to learn about something further or direct me to something new. In addition to the notes, books become riddled with sticky tabs, numbered and referenced in the notes.
But I am not good at writing on the subway. My chicken scratching is hard enough to read when I write while sitting at a table; I’d never make out a thing if I wrote while the train rolls on.
Samara O’Shea, author of For the Love of Letters and Note to Self has recently started writing on Tranquility du Jour and recently posted about some letters she had received. One letter was from a gentleman prolific in calligraphy. Years ago I studied the art. While I became fairly decent at it, I never remotely reached the skill this gentleman possesses. Looking over my notes, I finally bought a children’s pad of lined paper in which to reform my handwriting into something cleaner as well as to take up the calligraphy pen again. While this might make my letters and memos a little more legible, I doubt I’ll ever be talented enough to whip out a pen on the train. While I occasionally jump out of the shower or crawl out of bed in the middle of the night to find a pen, on the subway I think I’ll stick to sending myself emails from my phone.
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26th January, 2010 by Christina - No Comments
It took me about two years of occasionally listening to Depeche Mode before I ever decided that I loved the band. Sometimes this happens with books; we want to read them, we may even start them–but for whatever reason the timing just isn’t right. Sometimes it takes a few starts and stops before we finally get past a certain page. There is a difference between not getting into a book because you don’t like it and not getting into a book because you have three others that are really piquing your interest at the moment and a busy work schedule. Some books need to be put down and never finished, others deserve a second chance.
The Postmistress was the first book I requested from a publisher’s catalog specifically to review. Every time I heard from my contact asking how I liked it I would feel horrible responding that I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet even though I had committed and agreed to read and review it. Lucky for me, the book isn’t due out until February 9th and my intention was always to post a review right before release to help pump up interest in the book. So I squeaked in just under the wire.
There are some books that don’t ring an emotional response from the reader in blatant ways. I, for example, am a crier and have been known to bawl in the park and on the subway because of various passages that struck my fancy. But there are some books, like The Postmistress that seem to deserve tears that never come. It’s not that they’re unemotional books; it’s that they are working their message deeper and in different ways. Instead of crying, I would put down the book and be antsy, restless–even aggravated that I could not go back in time to help the past wrongs of humanity.
Most books that deal with war–any war–from mankind’s past deal with the victims and soldiers. Only occasionally do you find a book from the point of those left behind wondering what is happening on the battlefields–anxious for news that comes in censored bits and pieces or never at all.
I’ve seen a number of reviews linked on Twitter regarding The Postmistress. In an effort not to influence my own opinion, I haven’t read any of them, but I am now curious as to how many draw parallels to Atonement. Both books take place during World War II and are set partially in London where main characters seek refuge from the Blitz in underground tunnels, people are lost to the ravages of war, and people seek to control an unpredictable world.
The plots are different enough to appreciate both books as completely separate entities, but the parallels are very close–particularly on the theme of control and trying to right a wrong. The difference is influence behind our choices–out of remorse, guilt, and shame in Atonement or out of a need to protect the people we care for and the order of our world as in The Postmistress.
There is no pattern to the chaos that happens in life. You cannot predict the outcome of events or the small ways in which a moment in time will reshape our entire lives. Even order within the chaos has the ability to be illogical and unfathomable–the rules in place to keep the post office running are the same rules that tore Jewish families apart during their exodus from Germany because of small typos.
The constant in it all is the despair, hurt, hope, and healing that allows life to move forward. Everything happens and plays out as it is supposed to, even if it does not make sense. And everything is connected and flows together even if we do not see the threads that bind it all together.
Blake does some really beautiful things with her writing that tie right back to that thread of life when a thought or a sight forms the transition from one character’s point of view to another’s. She picks the peaceful moments like a song of a bird–those quiet moments are the times when we are more connected than at any other. In a way, this transitioning reflects itself and life in the same manner as Frankie’s final recording; as much as we isolate ourselves and our personal stories, they are all overlapping, all the same, all connected, adding to the confusion and order of existence.
I could fault Blake with not making the book as heavy in some key parts, she does an excellent job of tapping on ones heart and making the reader question what they would have done in Will’s place after his world view is shattered, Frankie’s place on the train, or in Iris’s place at the post office.
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25th January, 2010 by Christina - 9 Comments
Today I have decided to do a terrible thing. In the scheme of things, it’s not particularly bad, but it does break the trust of a relationship.
I have actively decided not to return a book to the library on time. And someone else is waiting for it.
The book is a bit obscure–it not like Elizabeth Gilbert’s latest, Committed, which had a waiting list of 78 people when I reserved it (if not more, I just know 78 people were ahead of me). And, to make matters worse, I already extended checkout of the book–the first time because I had checked out too many books to handle while traveling over the holidays and the second because I just wasn’t finished.
My reading has been a bit lazy this past month and with a hundred pages left, I didn’t think it would be a problem to extend the checkout period one more time. Except someone else decided that they too would like to read about the history of walking and added Wanderlust by Rebecca Solnit to their reserve list.
Wanderlust’s checkout period ends for me tonight. Those few pages should be manageable, however, regardless of whether or not I returning it tomorrow morning or Wednesday morning (I have yoga tomorrow night and won’t be anywhere near the library), I’m still stuck paying a fine. Early on in my reading, I considered buying a copy, but further on feel it’s one not necessary to my collection. A dollar or two in fines is negligible compared to the $23.99 should I actually buy it.
I’m not particularly pleased with what I’m doing. If I were on the waiting end of the book, I wouldn’t be too happy with someone hanging onto it longer than their allotted time and forcing me to wait, nor would I be pleased if I were the library having to deal with the late return and fining process (which, while I will pay immediately, isn’t always paid by some patrons). It’s an inconvenience to all other parties in order to accommodate myself because it’s not that I forgot when I had to return the book; I am choosing to delay return.
People like me, who decide we don’t ever do this are messing with how the organization of lending books operates. I’m curious as to what other people think of my bad behavior and what one should do if they need an extra night to finish a book past the original return date (we can just ignore that fact that I’ve continually put off finishing Wanderlust during the two checkout periods I’ve had it in my possession).
Would you hang on to a book to finish it? Or would you return it and attempt to check it out to finish later?
How wrong is it for me to break the rules this way? It might not be a huge deal if one person does this occasionally, but what about when lots of people do this–some occasionally and others regularly?
9 Comments
22nd January, 2010 by Christina - 1 Comment
After some trial and error with regards to being asked to review specific books, I finally found a policy that works for me. Basically, I’m willing to look at the book but there’s no guarantee that I’ll review it. It’s not that I’m against sharing bad reviews or feel obligated to only give good reviews in exchange for free books. What I’m hoping to do with posting a majority of positive reviews is to inspire readers to both pick up a book and to do something as a result of reading it that will enrich their lives. Neither negative nor blazé reviews do that very well.
The first book I stipulated this “no agreement until I can flip through it” arrangement with was The Army of the Republic. Reading the synopsis and background of the sales, it just didn’t seem like a book I would like.
Fascinated by the revolutionary impulse he witnessed during business trips to South America, Stuart began to wonder what similar movements would look like here in the United States. His research for THE ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC required numerous interviews with former revolutionaries in Argentina, Buenos Aires police who were active in the ’70s, CIA members, former ’60s radicals and present-day student activists to get an idea of how and why an insurgency forms, the course it can take, and the effects on the individuals within them.
Stuart Archer Cohen’s THE ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC (Picador Trade Paperback; October 2009) is set in a dark alternate America–one that we have seen actual glimmers of over the past few tumultuous years. It is run by a corrupt government with designs to privatize public resources, and to silence dissent with a ruthless secret security force. But as the plans of greedy politicians and their corporate cronies begin to see the light of day, and dissenters are abducted and silenced, the citizens can no longer ignore the writing on the wall.
While I wasn’t taken with the premise and the feeling of a John Grisham thriller, it didn’t sound bad–just not my thing. So I would take a look and not let assumptions guide my decision. A week after finishing and digesting the book, after almost blowing off social engagements to keep reading, and telling friends they HAD to read this book, I can say I’m glad I didn’t listen to the assumptions in my head.
My basic sales pitch to friends is that the book is like Cory Doctorow’s Little Brother…for adults. Or Watchmen in novel form without the superheros. The setting is a slightly different now or near future, but one that is believable because we see it beginning to take shape every day as eight-year-olds end up on airport watch lists and limitations on campaign financing are removed.
The book explores what it means to be a revolutionary versus a terrorist. Oscar Wilde is known for, among other things, having said, “The truth is rarely pure and never simple.” The truth about history is that it is written by the winners. A person can be a revolutionary and a terrorist–it just depends on which side of the struggle you are on. Case in point, the Boston Tea Party was, by modern standards, an act of terrorism.
It is also looking into who has the voice of the people, the majority? Minority? What if the people don’t use their voices? What if the media obscures their voices? What if vigilantes are just enforcing their own will? In the end, the message is to pay attention–don’t be blinded by branding and be aware that much of what is said in the media is crafted and manipulated to influence you. You have to make a decision and do something about it rather than hoping things will change or that someone will fight for you. Most importantly, don’t fall into a false sense of complacency.
It’s not easy to make those decisions and stand up for what you believe is right when you recognize that you could be hurt, tortured, or killed by the other side–especially when the other side has more power, more money, and more media influence than you. But people have done it to free nations and fight for equal rights even if it meant having fire hoses turned on them, getting trampled in riots, or going to war.
So remember, pay attention–gather facts from multiple sources and make your own conclusions. Don’t rely on other people to tell you what’s going on in the world or what side to take. And more importantly, don’t expect others to fight for you. As Pastor Niemöller said in his famous poem, “Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak out.”
Buy The Army of the Republic. It’s a predictable template with clear changes of voice and rationalized points of view for each narrator. But it is captivating. thought provoking, and a little fighting when you think about the changes and direction America has been taking. And it will make you pay attention.
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