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.
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