Reading for Fun?

I used to love reading, then I started hating it but continued to do it anyway, and now I’m beginning to love it again--and here is why:

My love for reading began when I was in middle school. I could barely speak English at the time and didn’t have any friends. Back then there wasn’t enough on the Internet to distract me, so that I read to keep myself entertained and to learn English. I was lonely and had a lot of free time on my hand, so that it didn’t take long for my reading to improve. Pretty soon I graduated from picture books for little kids to young adult novels. Those were fun. I was almost always excited to discover new stories and get to know new characters. Oftentimes I was compelled to keep reading even when my eyes were exhausted. Anybody who loves to read probably understands what that’s like.

All that joy gradually decreased as my interest in literature became serious, probably somewhere around senior year in high school. I was obsessed with wanting to be well-read, wanting to read everything that I heard mentioned in films or television, as well as in conversations with others. Before I knew it I had majored in English in college, studying literature like my life depended on it.

I loved being an English major, and I love studying literature. However, it had taken the joy out of reading. I started choosing the books to read based on their literary significance, not because they interest me. In the past I would look at the cover, read the flap to find out what the book was about, and if it sounded good I would read it. Nowadays I don’t even know what most of the books I choose to read are about. I don’t take the time to read the flap because it doesn’t matter--the book is significant and that means I have to read it regardless of whether or not it sounds interesting. Most of the time this results in a boring and excruciating reading experience. I don’t get excited to read anymore as it had become a chore, and very rarely do I find a book that I truly enjoy.

Well, all that is about to change. Last week I went to Powell’s to kill some time. Browsing the shelves in the blue room, I remembered why I used to love reading so much. There were so many interesting books I had never heard of. I decided that it was time to stop being such a scholar and just be a reader, just pick up anything that might interest me and read with joy again. I still have a long list of books I’m trying to read by the end of the year, but I intend to make some time for the ones that didn’t make it to the list just to retrieve my love for reading once again.

And now I have to go. I have some reading to do.

Reading List 2011

Middlemarch - George Eliot
The Illiad - Homer
Tess of the d’Uberville - Thomas Hardy
If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler - Calvino
Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides
Pastoral - Philip Roth
The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test - Tom Wolfe
Dandelion Wine - Ray Bradbury
As I Lay Dying - William Faulkner
Anna Karennina - Leo Tolstoy
The Spanish Tragedy - Thomas Kyd
Walden - Henry David Thoreau
Don Quixote - Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
Ghosts - Henrik Ibsen
Catch-22 - Joseph Keller
The Sun Also Rises - Ernest Hemingway
This Side of Paradise - F. Scott Fitzgerald
Memories, Dreams, Reflections - C.G. Jung
A Vindication of the Rights of Woman - Mary Wollstonecraft
The Prince - Machiavelli

Realistically I don't think I will be able to read all of these books this year. Even though I read a lot, I am kind of a slow reader. And I read a lot of things that aren't books, such as essays and short stories. Averagely I probably read fewer than 20 books a year.

As a student of literature there are always books I feel I should have read. This list is a compilation of 20 titles that I have always been meaning to read and felt I should have read long ago. There are a whole lot more that I leave out. I didn't include a lot of plays, just because there are way too many to list. In other words, I'll be doing as much as I can to read these books while spending a whole lot of time reading ones that aren't on the list too. Thinking about this makes me feel overwhelmed and excited at the same time.

It's already March. How the fuck did we get here?

About the Absence / 100th post

Things that have always been difficult: reading and writing about what I read. Yet I chose to make it my profession.

It takes me forever now to finish reading--but then again, hasn't that always been a problem?

I stopped blogging because I just didn't know what to write anymore. I'm back because now I know--for now I know.

Note on Reading Short Stories.

Short stories and short poems are the two things that I don't spend nearly as much time on as I should. They are just as important to my studies as the bigger works, since I study literature and want to know about all literatures. A big aspect of reading that I enjoy is the satisfaction of having read something big, which is probably why I don't read shorter works much.

But because one needs to read what one writes, I need to read short stories more. I often find answers to problems I have with my writing in reading short stories; a good story often contains examples of all the things you need when you have writer's blocks. It is also stimulating to read a brief, self-contained piece of work that is truly brilliant. Great short stories writer can make the characters so interesting you remember them the way you remember characters in novels. I had a discussion in a writing class a while back, in which we discovered that most of the stories we had read for the class focused on the characters than the plots. This, of course, isn't true to all short stories, but I have discovered that this proves to be true in most of the stories that I have read. And I enjoy these stories tremendously.

Reading short stories can help you to discover authors with whom you are not familiar. It is a quick way to get to know their writing styles. There are many authors whose names I recognize but whose works I have never read. Reading their stories help me to decide whether or not I want to read their works.

Last week I went and bought a new short story anthology--it was published in 2008, so not that new, but new to me. It is titled "The Ecco Anthology of Contemporary American Short Fiction" selected by Joyce Carol Oates and Christopher R. Beha. So far I have read two great stories, one of which is "The Love of My Life" by T.C. Boyle, which I highly recommend. I might write a more in depth discussion on it later.

NO SHAKESPEARE THIS MONTH!!!

I'm so sorry to say that I won't be reading and writing about a Shakespeare play this month.

In September I made a decision that I was going to start reading one Shakespeare play every month. I knew then that it was a promise that I would like to try to keep for the rest of my life, or at least for a few years, but that it was the promise I wouldn't always be able to keep. I knew that eventually life would get in the way, and that I wouldn't always be able to make time for it.

Well, the time has come. This is the first of six months that I won't be able to read a play. I have too much going on in my life, and I find that it would do more harm than good to force myself to do this--I said "force" because I'm really not in the mood for it, and Shakespeare is most enjoyable for me when I'm REALLY in the mood. I started reading "Coriolanus" a few days ago and felt like I needed to stop. And so I did.

I am acknowledging the fact that there is something missing from this month. I won't make up for it by reading two plays next month; I am simply acknowledging it and moving on, and will try my best to not let this happen again. But if it does, I'm sure it'll be for good reasons, and that I will be able to forgive myself.

My Affair with Foucalt

At this stage in my studies, reading theory is still difficult--although it had gotten easier over the years. Michel Foucault was one of the first theorists I had read. I remember how difficult he was, how I detested reading his works simply because I could barely understand him. Well, things have changed now. I'm sitting here with the first volume of "The History of Sexuality" next to me. I meant to read it from cover to cover the last time I took it out of the shelf--probably a year ago--but stopped after I got about two-third into it. I realized that it had gotten easier to read, and I very much enjoyed his composition, yet my patience didn't sustain long enough for me to finish the book.

Towards the end of last month, I decided that I would finally finish it. Only a few days ago I took it out of the shelf again and reread the first four chapters of the fourth part, "The Deployment of Sexuality." It was even easier and more enjoyable this time around; I was surprised by how much fun I had trying to understand his complex argument and the pleasure I got from succeeding. I no longer furrow my brows, and sometimes even smile.

It is a love affair. I like him more the more I read him. And now, as he has continued to become a part of my life, to benefit my studies and my understanding of the world, I feel as if there is a bond between us. It's different from the affair I have with Shakespeare. Because Shakespeare's plays are fictional, the relationship I develop is with the story, the themes, and the characters; while there is an intimate connection I feel with Shakespeare--or, rather, his work--I don't feel like I am getting deeper into his mind the more I read his work, since the words I read come from his taking on different personae--something he does so brilliantly but also something that shields us from getting to know who he really is. With Foucault, however, the voice I hear is the voice of this "Michel Foucault," and it is the voice that I have come to know and grown accustomed to. I don't presume that I know who he is from reading his work, but what I know is this persona--the brilliantly thoughtful man whose insights continue to challenge and expand my mind.

I have been accepted into four MA programs so far. My writing sample is a paper I wrote in Queer Theory class about Monogamy, drawing largely from Foucault. While I didn't have much confidence in the work--and even now I still feel that it doesn't fully represent me as a scholar--it is probably one of the main reasons these schools find me a desirable candidate. It seems, then, that Foucault had helped me to get into these schools, and therefore strengthening my relationship with him.

If ever would i teach a theory class in a university, I would tell my reluctant students that there is a lot of reward in trying to understand theoretical texts. There are authors who intentionally make their writings difficult so not to undermine the complexity of the ideas, but I don't think Foucault is one of them; his texts are difficult because there is no easy way to write about these issues. Anybody who studies the art of composition can read his texts and see how carefully constructed his sentences are. His use of punctuation is impeccable. There is a lot you can learn from him.

I intend to finish Volume 1 within the next few days. Instead of moving on to Volume 2, I want to read bits and pieces of his other works. I have just bought "The Foucault Reader" edited by Paul Rabinow, which I cannot wait to start.

This and That

It's embarrassing how little I update these days.

I had such a big plan back in August to update more often and regularly. That has become impossible--or is it? Maybe I'm just lazy. Maybe I should manage my time better. Maybe--maybe--you'll never know.

I remembered earlier that one of the reasons this blog is important to me is that my blog entries are the only kind of notes I have on the books that I read. Many English majors like to write in their books, many actually write or type up notes and keep them in folders; I do neither of these things. I always think that I'm going to have to reread these books anyway if I'm ever going to do any work on them in the future, so why bother? Taking the time to do these things actually slows down the reading.

But the other side of my brain argues that perhaps it is important. It could be useful to remind myself of the impression I had on the book when I first read it, what I particularly liked or didn't like, etc. I have had some entries that I am really proud of, because I was really moved by the books and that made writing about them much easier and more fun. Unfortunately not all books move me in such a way.

I finished reading E.M. Forsters' "Passage to India" months ago, and have tried so many times to write about it. For some reason I just can't finish the entry, even though I enjoyed that one quite a bit. Maybe someday soon I will be able to.

Currently I'm taking a lot of time to read books about improvisation, since that is my new hobby/obsession. I probably won't be writing about them much since they don't really have much to do with my literature studies. But you never know.

This and That

I have been trying to update regularly, but it hasn't been easy with the life I'm living now. I've been working very hard on improvisation, because I don't know how long I will get to do it and I want to make the best out of it. I have made a lot of sacrifices to work on this particular art form, and will continue to do so at least for a while.

But I'm still a literature scholar, and that will never change. This blog is one of the things that help to keep that part of me alive, and therefore I will continue to keep it.

I have been accepted into an MA program at University of Alberta. This is a very exciting news; it had assured me that I'm at least good enough to continue doing this, and that choosing to major in English wasn't a bad idea, since I turned out to be quite decent. While I feel that there are other majors that would suit my fine too, I don't regret my choice one bit. The things I have learned, the people I have met, and the works I had been exposed to are priceless, and I would not trade them for all the world.

If you're new to this blog, welcome. If you haven't been here for a while, say hi. Have fun reading.

Keeping The Balance!

If you, like me, have a lot of interests, you probably understand how incredibly difficult it can be sometimes to keep up with all the things you have to do, and to manage your time so that you can do all those things. Currently my top priority is to study classical literature, which includes reading the titles on my GRE study list and reading one Shakespeare play every month. But it is also important for me to continue studying theories, drama, French, and sociology, as well as to keep up with my creative writing. As I have only twenty-four hours a day, and a part-time job, AND a serious addiction to television, I often find myself freaking out about all the tasks I have created for myself. Sometimes I do envy people who don't have nearly as many ambitions as I do, as their lives much be much easier. It is important to note that the things that mean the most to me are the things for which I do not get paid.

Oftentimes I discontinue some of these things so that I can finish something else. If I'm trying really hard to finish reading the novel I'm working on, it is more likely that I would simply forget to study French. But most of the times the thing I tend to sacrifice is my creative writing, possibly because I find it less important. The truth is that if I really want my writing career to take off, I need to really keep at it! Another side effect from not writing is that it throws off my balance. There are days when I find that I just cannot concentrate on my reading. When that happens, I find that if I take a few hours to work on my writing, I can go back to the reading and be able to focus on it for hours. There is a certain balance I have to keep between reading and writing, and by doing both I can really do them both well.

Another thing that really helps me to balance things out is my improvisation class. I have been taking improv for ten weeks now, and it is brilliant. I love getting up on stage and making things up, gaining confidence, challenging my mind, and hanging out with these cool people. In many ways we all find that improvisation benefits a lot of aspects of our lives. I don't know if I will ever be an improv artist and perform in front on an audience, or whether or not I want to, but I know that by working on my craft, it really helps me in the other areas in life. So far it has helped me to get ideas for my writing, to enjoy whatever play I'm reading by offering me the ability to interpret the lines in many ways, and to be more comfortable and confident in my social life.

I always find myself forgetting how important it is to keep this balance. Maybe after writing this entry, I will be able to remember.

This and That

It feels like a long time since I last blogged. I have obviously ignored my blogging schedule--I can't believe I couldn't even stick to it for a month. I guess I will just have to play it by ear from now on.

I've been reading a lot, and that's all that counts, right? There surely will be a post about Charles Dickens's "Hard Times" in the near future--I've been reading it and really loving it.

This month I'm planning to read Shakespeare's "Henry IV Part II" and Ben Jonson's "Volpone." I haven't read any of Jonson's works, but this one is on my study list so I'll attend to it.

Lastly, before I graduated from college I thought of how sick I was of Portland. The truth is that I was sick of my life, which consigned me to very few parts of Portland. Yesterday I went for an hour-long walk while listening to Stephen Greenblatt's "Will in the World," and fell in love with this city all over again. There are many beautiful neighborhoods, interesting shops, and some gorgeous houses in the southeast side. There is so much of Portland that I have yet to know, and I'm sure I will only love this place more once I get to know those parts. I'm planning to go on these walks regularly, while listening to some book, of course, and hopefully I will have some beautiful photographs to post

This and That

And another week had just gone by.

I've been swamped, constantly getting called in to cover other people's shifts. It is possible that this will continue to happen for the next couple of weeks. Anyway, it is one of the reasons I haven't been updating.

I've been meaning to pick up some books that have writing exercises in them so that I can do my weekly exercise entry, but of course I've been too lazy to even do that. As a result there won't be one of those entries this week.

I am reading "Henry IV." That's going to be the Shakespeare entry of the month. Hopefully I'll be able to get a short story read by the end of next week as well. I also have to cook something...

I'm out of school but still overwhelmed--this time by my own ambitions, which is good; it means I'm not wasting time and constantly pushing myself and working my brain.

5 Monologues

I almost forgot to do this. I remembered it on Wednesday and thought I would wait until later in the week. I have been working on other writings, which was why I didn't want to take the time from that to do this. But now it's time. I'm trying to take this blogging thing super seriously because it's giving me what I need--a schedule. And with a schedule comes motivation. Even though I have to take my time off of doing other things to do this, it's actually motivating me to do those other things.

So here's this week's "5 Monologues" entry:

(This exercise is boring as hell. Hopefully by next week I'll find a different writing exercise to replace it.)


SUITCASE

I just bought a new suitcase. It's blue and old-fashioned, something often seen in old movies. I had wanted it for so long, so when I found one at an antique shop the other day for only $10 I just knew I had to buy it. I love suitcases; there was a time in my life when I traveled so much, and my suitcase was like my friend, my traveling companion. I had one that came with me from Thailand to the US, then I took it to several other cities in the US. It belonged to the family, however, so I never really felt like it was mine completely. But now that I just bought my first ever suitcase, it will be mine and mine alone. Wherever I go from now on it'll go with me. We will create new memories together.


SHOT GLASSES

I went to Chicago a few years ago on a choir tour. During the trip my friends went to a souvenir store where some of them bought shot glasses. At the time I didn't drink and didn't approve of underage drinking, so I made a scene about how drinking was bad and blah blah blah. My opinion had changed over the next couple of years, and shot glasses had become the one thing I always buy wherever I go. I never use them because I hate taking shots and never do it at home, but I still like collecting them. I keep them hidden in my kitchen cabinet, which really isn't the place for souvenirs. I'll find a new place to display them once I have a big enough collection.


SOCKS

During the first couple of years of my puberty, my feet sweated and stank a lot. I don't mind admitting that now because the problem had ceased years ago. I used to feel embarrassed about it. There were times when my socks were some of the most disgusting things in the world, so moist and stinky you can smell them from feet away. (Ha ha, feet away.) I had tried different brands of spray and powder, but neither worked. Until one day I tried rubbing hand sanitizer on them before I put on my socks. I had always thought the smell of hand sanitizer was too strong, so I thought it would work perfectly for my feet. The result was satisfactory. I continued to use this method for a while until I got lazy and stopped. But by then my feet no longer stank.


CELLPHONE

I used to want a cell phone so bad. When I was younger I used to make several phone calls a night to people who probably didn't want to talk to me. (I was a lonely and annoying little boy, it's safe to say.) Having a phone to me was a dream; it would give me complete privacy. Little did I know how much money was involved in buying a phone and using it. Many years later when I had stopped caring so much about it, my dad bought me a cellphone. It was amazing how quickly the device consumed my life, how it became a necessity, how naked I felt when I left it at home. I have had many cellphones since then, but now it is no longer important to me. Sometimes I leave it at home intentionally just so nobody could bother me. I'm not too attached to it anymore--I have grown out of it--and that is a good thing.


WATER

I drink a lot of water. I've been doing it ever since I was a child, and started doing it more in high school when I sang a lot. My voice constantly got sick in high school, and it would take a lot of time for it to heal because of all the singing I was doing. I thought that drinking water would protect the voice, but it didn't work all that well. I continued drinking a lot of water despite finding out over the years that it really doesn't help to prevent sickness or help me to get over a flu quicker. Eight glasses of water will do--more than that isn't going to make a difference.

5 Monologues

Here goes, the "5 Monologues" entry of this week:

(If you don't know what this is, read the previous entry. Please.)

SUMMER

When I think of summer I always think of being warm and sweaty and gross. I've always hated it. This is Portland and I like it gray and wet. But this year I found that I had probably hated it more than I should have. Like many unpleasant things in life I tend to think and worry about them too much. The real thing of anything is never as bad as the picture in my head. I think there is some benefit in preparing for the worst, but when you spend as much energy stressing out about things as I do, you might need to learn to stop. I learned to embrace the heat this year--well, most of it. I went out to my backyard and sunbathed for a few days, which I enjoyed, until I stopped because of all the unidentifiable minuscule insects that kept flying in my face. And on some of the really hot days I just went out in my undershirt to the waterfront, and to the library where is was air-conditioned. I still don't like the heat, but I did, to a certain degree, enjoyed those days.


RAIN

I loved those rainy fall nights two years ago when I took an amazing night class at PSU. I loved getting out of class when it was dark outside, and when it rained it was only more fun. I remember being cold, shivering in my pea coat, sometimes with and sometimes without an umbrella, walking from the building to my bus stop. During moments like that so many things go on in my head. When I'm alone I'm usually lost in my own thoughts, and amidst an insane atmosphere, my thoughts tend to run wild. Without knowing why, I do cherish those moments. I don't vividly recall what I was thinking about or how I was feeling, but I remember that it felt good, and now, recalling it, makes me feel happy also.


HAIR

I have been cutting my own hair for months. It's difficult, and I'm learning new things every time I do it. I started doing it because I wanted to save money, but now it's more because I enjoyed taking charge of my own look. I know that a barber would be able to do a much better job, but I've been enjoying not depending on them so much that I can never go back, at least not for a long while. There are many things I intend to do on my own, things that I should probably pay people to do for me--but where's the fun in that?


INK

I've recently started keeping a journal in longhand. I gain a sense of pride in looking at the white pages I have filled with my handwriting. It gives me a sense of accomplishment, such that I don't find from blogging or typing. I used to hate my handwriting, but it has improved over times, and looks pretty decent now if I'm in a good mood when I write. A few days ago, when I was on my vacation, an old lady who sat at a table by mine at the restaurant told me it was great to see somebody write with his hand. That made me happy. I secretly hope that I look cool when I write, so that perhaps some younger kids would see me and want to start doing what I do. I think technology is great, but I dread the sights of these people and their iPhones. I don't think half of them have any need for it, and most of them will probably become more and more stupid the more they use that device. I'm not looking forward to the future wherein most of the world's population can't tear their faces away from some sort of a handheld device; that, to me, is the end of civilization.


YELLOW

Yellow is the color of my legal pad. It is also my least favorite color in the world. I don't mind it on a legal pad, or on sticky notes, but you have to pay me extra if you want me to wear yellow. I just don't find it flattering; there may be a shade of yellow that looks good on me, but I have yet to find it. I also don't think it's flattering on other people; I don't recall having seen one person look good in yellow. In fact I don't recall seeing that many people wear yellow. Maybe everybody feels the same way I do about it.


At last it is over, five random monologues about myself. It's harder than I thought--maybe I'm just not inspired enough tonight--but the point is to do it and get it done.

A few days ago when I was on my vacation in Ashland, I got a new idea about a new blogging project. As an aspiring writer, I know that I will only get better if I write more. Quantity eventually brings quality, I believe. So, I decide to blog more. At first I was going to start a new blog, because the new idea doesn't really fit in with what I intended this blog to be. But then I thought, who cares? I can do what I want with my own goddamn blog! So here we are.

I try everyday to use the things I read and do to somehow enrich my writing. I want to improve my lifestyle by integrating things that I find beneficial to my writing. This, from now, is what this blog is about. And because I find schedules useful, I decided to make myself one--every month I will post entries about the following:

-a novel (1 entry per month; when finished)
-a Shakespeare play (1/month; when finished)
-a play (1/month; when finished)
-short stories (2/month; 2nd and 4th week)
-an old film (1/month; 3rd week)
-a new dish (1/month; 4th week)
-5 monologues (1/week; every week)

Pretty much I plan to write about one novel, one Shakespeare play, one other play, and two short stories a month--I read a little bit more than that. These entries are for my other blog and will also be posted here. I plan to spend some time watching old films--I like them and think them swell--and write about one of them every month. These films are so complex and worth studying.

I want to learn to cook a new dish every month, because I love being domestic, even though I haven't had much time to do so lately. Every time I try something new it always gives me a sense of accomplishment, so it's only proper to blog about it.

Not too long ago I came up with a writing exercise that I found really intriguing: write down five random words that came up on top of your head, and use them as topics for monologues. Through it I learned many new things about myself, opened numerous doors to the past and discovered thoughts that I didn't even know existed. I wanted to do it consistently, hence it ended up on the schedule.

Encourage me by reading my blog and leaving comments! Your attention counts; it will help me to stick to the schedule.

Reading

There are things you learn or should have learned in high school Comp. Lit. class that, instead of becoming a part of you or the reader than you are, you tend to forget. Or maybe I'm just talking about myself. Anyway, sometimes paying attention to the most "basic" things is what makes a reader a good reader. These things, which are basic because they are taught in high school, concern the construction of a work of literature. Since I'm on fire today I'm gonna talk about them now.

First of all, you know how in like every novel you read there are scenes or chapters that make you think, "Oh my god this is so boring! Get to the main story line already!" Well, that always happens to me. But when I was reading "Mockingbird" I found myself questioning, "OK, why does the family have to spend their Christmas holiday out of town with their extended family?" "Why are we introduced to Uncle Jim if he's not going to appear again through the rest of the novel?" "What's the significance of the chapter with the mad dog?" It's true, sometimes these chapters mean nothing; the authors perhaps came up with them and love them so much that they can't possibly take these chapters out. But when you read a work by somebody as brilliant as Harper Lee, these chapters do mean something. So when you consider them in relations to the character development, or the theme of the story, you find the significance, and you realize how intelligently the work is constructed. The very thing you see is, in sum, the craft.

You know how in high school or middle school we do things like mapping out the story? That's when we point out the rising action of the story, the climax, the falling action, etcetera. Well, who does that outside of class? I don't, and in most works you simply can't; it's not that straightforward. Nonetheless, it is still important to pay attention to the themes and how they are explored, the characters and what they represent, and how the message(s) of the book are conveyed. These are all craft issues; as a reader you gain a deeper understanding of the story when you pay attention to them; as a writer there is no other way to learn to write better than to pay attention to these things. At least that's what I think.


This morning I read Raymond Carver's short story called "Nobody Said Anything." Already I should be asking, "What does the title mean?" I don't want to spoil the story because I think everybody should read it, but here are some of the crafty things I find while reading the story:

-The age of the narrator is never mentioned directly. But you can guess that he's a boy who has recently reached puberty by the constant reference to his sexuality, masturbation and sexual fantasies.
-It's not perfectly clear whether his brother is older or younger than him. I thought the scene in the beginning made him seem older than the narrator. However later on the narrator encounters a boy who is supposed to be about the same age as his brother, but the narrator refers to him as a "kid."
-The themes of the story, I find, is family in relations to the follow: safety, sex, shame, fishing, and pride. I can write essay on each of these things, but I won't. At least not on here.
-The story is "a day in a life" sort of story, and it goes around in circle; the narrator starts off at home, goes out, meets a woman, goes fishing, meets a boy, fishes, and comes back home; he also deals with a fight between his mom and dad in the beginning, and comes home in the end to the same thing.

So, that's kind of like something I do every once in a while when I'm reading.

This and That

I have spent the past couple of months being completely obsessed with the theater. I wanted to start writing for the stage, so I read a lot of plays and studied everything I could about playwriting and the theater. The downside of that is that I have become unable to accomplish anything. While struggling to write my first play, it had been impossible for me to write anything else. In an attempt to fix that, I decided to get back into writing short stories again.

In order to do so, I have to start reading short stories, so I go and check out a collection of short stories from the library. After browsing through the collection and reading some of them, I become rather disappointed. There is nothing about the stories that I find innovative. They are well written, don't get me wrong, but the stories are just not interesting. It seems to me that these writers have great ability but nothing of importance to tell. It's a wonder that they have won the notable prizes that got them into the collection. One of them, for example, is about a college student who sleeps with her professor to get a better grade and to steal his money. The main character is well developed, but there just isn't much in the story. I even find some of its elements cliche, like the professor character, for example. Many writers mention that it is important to get to know what is being published these days, what is currently considered good, but I find that most of the things that I have read that are on the market has nothing to compare to the classics, which are mostly what I read. I'm not sure what is going on in the literary world today, but I do not like it.

Putting that away, I return to my collection of short stories by Ray Bradbury, who I think is one of the best writers that ever lived, especially in America. His stories always give me inspiration; they have helped me through many writer's blocks over the years. But reading and learning from the same writer after a while can also become a bit of a bore. So I decide to pick up some new collections--ones that I have heard mentioned and recommended for so long but haven't gotten a chance to get to. These are Raymond Carver's "Where I'm Calling From," Tim O'Brien's "Things They Carried," and Lorrie Moore's "Self-Help." I have read some stories from these collections, and it is time to read all of them.

I started with Carver's story entitled "Nobody Said Anything," which is marvelous and exactly what I need. There will be some sort of an analysis on the story in a later entry.

Books For Lunch

I'm trying to get my friends to check out my blog; for some reason this seems like a good idea.

A little rant about Flannery O'Connor

I had a conversation with my professor Susan yesterday. Somehow Flannery O'Connor came up, and she told me how O'Connor was a devout Catholic. I was utterly surprised. I didn't know anything about O'Connor, except that she was from the South. I read "Wise Blood" a while back and thought it was amazing in the way that it questioned religion while maintaining its spirituality. I even read it as semi-antichrist. Obviously I was way off.

But this is precisely why I don't really care for this kind of reading of literature. I believe that we should read a text with absolutely no consideration of the author's intention whatsoever. She might have had an idea for what she was trying to do, but as soon as the text gets out into the public, I can do whatever I want with it. Whenever people try to guess the writer's intention, I usually find their points invalid, and find that their reading is limited. Once you forget about the author, the possibility is endless.

As a writer I know that on some level my works are influenced by things that happen to me or things that happen around me. But I don't think people can tell exactly what kind of person I am and what I am trying to say by reading my work, nor do I want people to. If writers were worried about how they might be thought of by their readers, how dull would their works be?

Just a thought.

Susan also loaned me a copy of Charles Baudelaire's "Les Fleurs Du Mal" (translated by Richard Howard) which is absolutely gorgeous. I am completely enamored by it.

...

Today I have been reading Octavia E. Butler's "Parable of the Sower" for my class. Usually I don't like science fiction, but this one is quite good. I'm enjoying it so far, which is always a good thing when you have to read something for a class. It feels nice to be reading while bathing in the sun. I'm beginning to enjoy this weather.

It's been a while...

I just can't seem to commit to blogging, I suppose. I actually really like blogspot, but I just can't seem to find anything to write about. This blog is supposed to be about the books I read, but that's gonna change from now on. (That way I'll manage to find something to write about.)

FYI I have a Livejournal but only a few people are allowed to read it. Pretty much I don't really want any of you to know too much about me.

I feel like my life is just about one word after another. I think there are more of other people's words coming out of my mouth each day than my own words; that is to say that I read out loud more than I talk. I think that's a good thing--but what does that say about my social life?

Well, I'm not here to whine. I guess I just want to write something and know that somebody is reading it. So here I am. And, just for randomness's sake, this is a picture of what I ate this morning for breakfast:
I thought it was pretty and gross at the same time. I guess it's pretty gross. But not really. It's just this Trader Joe's mixed berries cereal thing that I'm in love with, and I put some frozen blueberries in it--I thawed them out first, of course. It tasted divine, let me assure you.

Anyway, that's it for now. I promise to write more. But I wouldn't count on it if I were you.

PS. I'm planning to attend two performances of Shakespeare's plays this weekend--"Richard II" and "Much Ado About Nothing"--so that should give me something to write about. Keep reading!

I'm back

It has been a while...

When I created this blog, I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do with it. All I knew was that I loved reading, and I wanted to have a blog about the joy of reading, how reading had enriched my life. Over time I became busy with school so that I didn't have time to update. I've been spending most of every day reading and writing about literature for school so that I didn't have time to do it for pleasure. Well, hopefully all of that is going to change from now on.

I'm in a class right now that forces me to write a lot about what I read. The professor would give us a question and we would have to write the answer to it right there on the spot. I hate these exercises. It's like, "let's see how you can muster up something to save your life in five minutes." But then I realized how these exercises really have helped me to think better, faster and more thoroughly. It has become much easier to put thoughts into words, to be insightful and honest. I think when we try to write something too formally, we lose sight of the simplest things, we forget the minor details because we are so obsessed with the points we are trying to prove. So that is what I'm trying to do here, test it out, see what happens.

This blog is still going to be about reading. But I might incorporate something about my life in here too. Often times I find that the things I read each day somehow relate to who I am and the current state of my life. So that's what you are going to find here. The books I read, the life I live, and probably some of the work that I have been doing too.