A change of tack

I have never been, in the past, one for poetry. Yet reading another Charles Bukowski novel tempted me to give it another go, post school.

It left me with mixed feelings; some create a beautiful image others are very easy to relate to yet all of them are difficult to read the ending of lines without punctuation frustrates me and I feel it adds and awkwardness to reading. There maybe a subtly I am missing through not knowing it read allowed. In the same way that reading lyrics to a song you have never heard can be strange.

Nevertheless this mild tentative step into the poetic world has intrigued me and will fuel an new adventure into another form of the written word.

To Kill a Mocking Bird

This is a book that others have been forced to read and analyse to death through their school careers, thus I felt I had missed out and in reading it for pleasure may come to understand why it was so critically acclaimed and furthermore shoved down the throats of our school going youth. Maybe I am a little bitter about English literature that is taught in schools as due to my moving around I studied Romeo and Juliet three years in a row. But enough of my resentments, it lead me to pick up a book to 'catch up'.

So I sat down in the sunshine of Portishead and embarked on reading a novel expecting a revelation and for it to connect with my inner teenager. Within a dozen pages I had thrown it down in disgust. Not due to irritation with the narration, prose or even the story but due to my out right hatred of the narrow minded, dogmatic approach to teaching of a first year teacher. For those yet to read it this teacher berates a little girl for being able to read and write upon starting school.

Still once I had cooled off a little I realise that this strong aversion was the exact reason why I should pick the book back up. Although I hadn't noticed within those 12 short pages I had already been sucked in to that world so completely that it caused such a strong reaction. This comprehension gave me instant reverence for the writing of Lee and has inspired me on to read the rest of the book with bated breath for what more this story can stir in me.

You may have read this book and disagree, you may have been forced to stop after every page and think about the symbolism and the hidden context of race in America. But for that I care very little, after all books are for entertainment. They are created to give us enjoyment so I am an advocate of only reading what gives you gratification. When a story is told to the extent that you forget you are reading and you are sucked into a new world as if you were part of the narrative then it is needless to say that your full immersion shows an indulgence of the brain which leaves you perfectly entertained.

With that I will retreat into yet another book, maybe I'll see you there.