There’s a quiet relationship that
we I like to think exists between ourselves and the wonderful, intimate world of books. It’s a relationship based on the beauty of understanding not only the words together on the page, but also the little winks the author seems to give to us. The little head nods and small acknowledgement that you share something in secret- something personal. However, it’s also the deception and little details the author leaves out to make us pull at our hair while we’re reading, screaming, “NOOO, (insert character’s name) WHYYYYYY?!?!?!”
My freshman year, I read the Ray Bradbury book, Fahrenheit 451. Going into this book, I had no interest for it whatsoever. A dystopian novel about book burning? I mean c’mon ninth grade English Honors! I know our generation has our noses stuck in our phones and tablets, but we like reading too! I shook my head, wondering what mysteries this book would bring. To my surprise, as I was answering and questioning reading check questions and battling my way into Socratic seminars, I learned that I had a love not for the story itself, but the characters. I mean, I guess characters make a story, but- I don’t know was that a trick question? I think deep down I know I can’t hate a book, because somehow I become emotionally attached to the characters and their lives intertwine with mine, and my universe isn’t good enough for me anymore, because I’d do anything to live in there’s. Book lovers, you understand me, right?
Only once, EVER, had I disliked a book and I won’t say which book, but I was utterly bored by it; confused as to why it labeled as such a great work. A work of pure genius. A MASTERPIECE!
It was misleading, confusing, and written in a way that, to me, seems like you took stories from passionate young adults, cut them up, and threw them together. Actually, no, the writing wasn’t even that great. It was choppy and too detailed, then not detailed at all, THEN (and this gets good) it goes in and out of a flashback (ready? here it goes) WITHOUT TELLING YOU OR EVEN GIVING YOU THE SLIGHTEST CLUE AS TO WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED. WHO DOES THAT? I mean, I get that authors want their books to be clever and all, but really? You need some structure in writing. Yet, what do I know? I’m just a mere reader- an observer of this guy’s work.
“Some people see the glass half full. Others see it half empty. I see a glass that’s twice as big as it needs to be.”
– George Carlin
Come to think of it, we are all just observers of someone else’s work. In the last book I just read (I finished today, and gosh I’m emotionally unstable right now) The Fault in Our Stars, Hazel Grace, a cancer patient lives by book entitled An Imperial Affliction (sadly, this book does not exists in real life). Hazel calls this book the closest thing she has to a Bible and the author, one of her best friends (though he doesn’t know she exists -YET). No more spoilers, but after I read the novel, it got me thinking about the connections we have with books.
^A music video by one of my absolute favorite YouTubers (I have many, but I love love love him)
In fact, I read The Fault in Our Stars over talking to my friends, over talking to my family, and over eating (YES EATING!!). So much so that one of my “friends” told me that I was crazy and totally dissed my reading. You know what? Sometimes books are better than people. Scratch that. Books are better than people. And John Green is a god.
^The movie is out June 2014, I suggest you get reading 😉
You don’t have to be a bookworm to understand the connection built with books. In fact, you don’t even have to like reading. Just pick up a book and look it over. Eventually you’ll find a book you love- one that you really click with. Okay? Okay.