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The Library Book
Nov. 16th, 2019 09:31 amHaving finished my re-read of Amor Towles' Rules of Civility last night, I decided to pick up my borrowed-from-the-library copy of... wait for it... The Library Book by Susan Orlean and to attempt a re-read of it before this Thursday's meeting of the book club in Liverpool.
Except that this morning I found myself making a conscious effort to read it through different eyes--those of my bookish, brainy, articulate, intelligent 12-year-old granddaughter Sophia.
Now, anytime you re-read a book, it is with NEW eyes. That can't be helped. Unless you've been in a coma since your last reading of the book, it's gonna happen that way. And it's not a bad thing. In fact, there's a lot to be gained by it, learned from it.
But reading the same book through DIFFERENT eyes is, well, different. And maybe not even possible. Because you can't really know what someone else would see. But even though faced with something that's theoretically and practically impossible, I was still gonna try it.
Because on a trip to the Boulevard B&N, which I took last night because I was in serious danger of going crazy in the confines of a house which problems with my grandson had made, simultaneously, as echo-empty and claustrophobically close as that horrific tunnel they use for CT scans, I found a red-bound paperback copy of Orlean's book.
And I wondered, as I picked up mine this morning, if my bookish, brainy, articulate, intelligent granddaughter would like to read it. Which I think she might. And so, among the several missions which still lie ahead of me today, I think I'm gonna include a return trip to the Boulevard to pick it up for her.
Which is a bit, um, ironic because I had decided, before last month's club meeting, that I WOULD NOT buy any more books but would instead BORROW one of the copies of the next month's selection to take home and read. Because I'd finally come to understand that this relentless acquisition of books for purely personal use is an addiction, a disease, right?
And yet, I'm now buying the very same book for Sophia. Which means I've totally relapsed and am attempting to blame it on an innocent 12-year-old kiddo, right? I'm so-o-o pathetic...
LPK
Dreamwidth
11.16.2019
Except that this morning I found myself making a conscious effort to read it through different eyes--those of my bookish, brainy, articulate, intelligent 12-year-old granddaughter Sophia.
Now, anytime you re-read a book, it is with NEW eyes. That can't be helped. Unless you've been in a coma since your last reading of the book, it's gonna happen that way. And it's not a bad thing. In fact, there's a lot to be gained by it, learned from it.
But reading the same book through DIFFERENT eyes is, well, different. And maybe not even possible. Because you can't really know what someone else would see. But even though faced with something that's theoretically and practically impossible, I was still gonna try it.
Because on a trip to the Boulevard B&N, which I took last night because I was in serious danger of going crazy in the confines of a house which problems with my grandson had made, simultaneously, as echo-empty and claustrophobically close as that horrific tunnel they use for CT scans, I found a red-bound paperback copy of Orlean's book.
And I wondered, as I picked up mine this morning, if my bookish, brainy, articulate, intelligent granddaughter would like to read it. Which I think she might. And so, among the several missions which still lie ahead of me today, I think I'm gonna include a return trip to the Boulevard to pick it up for her.
Which is a bit, um, ironic because I had decided, before last month's club meeting, that I WOULD NOT buy any more books but would instead BORROW one of the copies of the next month's selection to take home and read. Because I'd finally come to understand that this relentless acquisition of books for purely personal use is an addiction, a disease, right?
And yet, I'm now buying the very same book for Sophia. Which means I've totally relapsed and am attempting to blame it on an innocent 12-year-old kiddo, right? I'm so-o-o pathetic...
LPK
Dreamwidth
11.16.2019
