Reading in the Dark

Dearest Gods of Literature,

I've finished a book! Laugh and jeer at me as you will - I know I am moving along at a tortoise's pace - but you won't bring me down. The novel which I have just read was a bear to get through, a fanged, monstrous beast, but I did it. I did it!

Only 49 more to go.

But first! I little about Book Numero Uno: Reading in the Dark.


Sadly, this was a novel assigned for class. Therefore, the first novel of the new year - nay, new decade - was not read of my own free will.

What does this mean? Simple. It means I absorbed about 5% of the words my eyes fell upon. All the while, instead of the typical English major thought-process, my mind was occupied by a single strain of thought, played over and over: "How many more pages left?"

Oddly enough, what I do recall from Seamus Deane's novel of family arguments and the resultant sorrows, is stunningly poignant and beautiful prose. For example:

"It was so stale a secret, like a gust of bad breath, and the way the three of us were crouched together in the middle pew of the church, like conspirators, with the sun beginning to shine, and the birds cheeping and warbling again, it was like a false relief, as though the church were a machine that had stopped throbbing to let the world come in again around its becalmed silence."

... Yeah. Gorgeous writing.

But alas, I recall little of the plot. I can tell you that the characters were well-developed. The unnamed narrator was a little rascal of a boy, and his mother was deliciously deranged (my favorite).

The dynamics between family members were astounding and original, as well as very astutely portrayed - as encompassed by this line: "What we both knew separated us." You needn't know the situation or the characters involved to understand how much deeper this sentence goes than what is written on the page.

But... that's where the positives stop, unfortunately. I found the way in which it was written - in snippets, as opposed to fluent narration - made it difficult to follow. The dialogue was scarce, the description (sometimes) over the top and overwhelming, and the characters a little distant.

Now, I'm hesitant to admit that I wasn't emotionally involved with the characters - mostly because I believe it to be no fault of the author's, but rather my desire to be finished with the book before class tomorrow - but the fact remains that I was. This made it all the more difficult to finish Reading in the Dark.

Oh, well. Now I am done, and now I shall get some much-needed sleep. Tomorrow, I shall read something more.

~ Gina Marie