Slaughter-My-Mind-Five-Times, Vonnegut

Currently Reading: The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne

Even after having a few weeks to mull over Slaughterhouse Five, I’m still not sure what my opinion of the book is. 

Again, this could be in part because back to back Vonnegut books is a lot to take if you’re not big on books with little plot or character development, which I'm not. And I think I was extra frustrated with this aspect of Vonnegut’s writing because this seemed like such a rich area of history for a compelling story. I’d never heard of the bombing of Dresden before despite having studied World War II rather extensively and I was pretty excited to read an inside perspective on the event. Instead, I got jostled and thrown around different eras at random - with an alien kidnapping and zoo thrown in for good measure - like someone riding a particularly bumpy, upsetting roller coaster. Much like at the end of such a roller coaster, I’m not sure how I feel at the end of this novel. Did I actually enjoy that? Or am I just proud that I survived it?

I believe I found Slaughterhouse Five unsatisfying because I hate finishing a book and thinking, “What?!” and that’s exactly what I did. As a point of pride, I like when I understand whatever the author was hoping to convey in his novel by the time I finish it. After all, I’m an English major. I should have the skills to do just that. So when I turn the last page of a novel and find myself wondering what the hell the author was trying to do, it upsets me on two levels. One: I have no closure and two: my English major pride has been hurt. Damn you, Vonnegut.

Because I don’t get it. Seriously, I really don’t.

Well… Strike that. I somewhat get it. I understand the message he’s trying to convey. Partly because it’s essentially the same one presented in The Sirens of Titan and partly because he practically beats you over the head with it in the dozens of repetitions of the phrase, “So it goes.” Again, the message is that it’s pointless to try to control and understand the world around you so instead of getting upset, you should simply take things as they come.

But I want to vent about what I didn’t understand. The basic foundation for the plot. Why did Vonnegut introduce the idea of time travel and aliens into this story? Was it really necessary to introduce this concept of everything in life being in a state of past, present, and future at one time (Hello chrono-synclastic infundibula concept from Sirens! Nice to see you again you confusing fictional, physics theory.)? Why on Earth did Vonnegut feel it was useful to have his character kidnapped by aliens and thrown into an alien zoo? How was that relevant at all?

What was even more confusing to me was the time traveling aspect of the novel. All I wanted to know the whole book was whether or not the time travel was legit. Was the protagonist, Billy Pilgrim, actually traveling through time? Or was this simply a way for Vonnegut to highlight another part of his theme? After all, if everything is happening both in the past and the present, then you can simply focus on the better parts of your life to allow you to accept the bad parts since they are all happening at one time anyways… if that makes any sense. What better way to emphasize focusing on other parts of your life than to have the protagonist literally travel to those parts of life periodically? If Billy Pilgrim actually is traveling through time, not just looking back or forward, I have one burning question: how did he get the ability to travel through time???

I know that this shouldn’t be what’s bugging me weeks later, but come on! How does he not explain this? I’m just supposed to accept that this guy happens to have the ability to time travel and just coincidentally is chosen to be a specimen in an alien zoo?

Or is Billy Pilgrim just crazy and none of the alien stuff actually happened?

To me, this feels like when I finished The Sun Also Rises and was utterly confused about why the main character didn’t just sleep with the love of his life… until about a month later my English teacher just dropped in randomly that the main character was impotent. Light bulb switched on and suddenly everything clicked. I’d really like the missing piece of information for Slaughterhouse Five that will have the same effect. Anyone have it for me? Please?

The Real Meaning of "BA": Book-Buyers Anonymous

Currently Reading: Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

First of all, I’ve finished Slaughterhouse Five, but I feel like I need to let it simmer a little longer before I make an attempt at a post. Largely because I’m debating whether or not I should re-read the whole book since I finished it and basically thought, “WTF????” Seriously, I think I must have missed something because currently, I really don’t understand why this book is such a big deal… Right now it reads like a less-well-done version of Catch-22 with a way sadder point so I’m actually hoping I missed something. Otherwise, I feel I may have to betray the English major and traitorously state that I just didn’t like Slaughterhouse Five.

P.S. Essentially reading two Vonnegut books back to back is a lot of depressing, deep, plot-less book to take. Unless that’s your jam, I wouldn’t recommend it.

So to give myself more time to contemplate the twisted, confusing world of Slaughterhouse Five, I decided that instead I’d share a confession with you.

Confession: Two days ago, I purchased $90 worth of books at Barnes and Noble. And then proceeded to carry the bag around with me while I hung out in Baltimore with my best friend for four hours.

The worst part of that? That purchase total is with a discount… I really may need to seek out help…

It was supposed to be a quick and small shopping trip! I simply needed a new copy of Brave New World since our copy was literally falling apart in my hands as I read it. Side note: cool as it may be to have a book that’s last copyright was in 1955, the cool factor drops significantly when the pages begin to fall out.

So I was just going to buy a replacement book. And perhaps a new copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy since ours was accidentally donated during a hectic house-cleaning session. Two books. Very reasonable.

But then I got in the store.

I don’t know what it is about bookstores that I love so much, but they’re pretty much wonderful. They definitely get me acting like a kid in a candy store and, believe me, I know the full weight of that expression having actually worked in a candy store and seen first hand what that means. Fortunately, the metaphor ends for me before I get to the running around and screaming about everything part.

Usually, I have pretty good self-restraint. I can tell myself all the very logical reasons not to buy a book – including the stack of books in my “to-read” pile that keeps getting larger and the stack of money in my bank account that keeps getting smaller. However, two days ago, I had no hope. I knew I was going to make a purchase anyways so I didn’t need to bother with restraint.

OOOooohhh! I don’t have this book! That one looks good! Oh and that one’s on my blog reading list! Oooohhhh! That one’s only $8!!! And that one will be totally helpful in planning that trip to Italy I will hypothetically take! And haven’t I always wanted to know more about zoology? I should just buy this book on that too! I will totally read that!

And as I stood there, suddenly with seven books in my hands instead of the two I set out to buy, I couldn’t bring myself to put a single one back.

But… but… but… How do I choose which to buy and which to leave???

Everyone has his or her shopping weakness. For most girls its clothes, jewelry or make-up while for men, I believe it’s mostly electronics of some kind. For me, evidently, it’s books.

The weirdest part of this vice, in my opinion, is that it’s almost an infinitely dumber buy than clothes or jewelry, etc. After all, you try clothes on in the store before you purchase them. Books? You have to guess whether or not you’re going to like it before you leave with it. It’s a much riskier purchase. Plus, most people only read a book once. What kind of long-term use are you going to get out of a book? Not to mention that whole fabulous library system where you can read a book without having to buy it or the even easier option of simply borrowing a book from a friend.

Um, could I possibly choose a more impractical way to spend my money? I thought getting a college degree made you smart... when does that kick in?

The thing is, though, I still really enjoy buying books, even if it is stupid to do so. I know it may sound silly, but when I find a book that has really touched me or changed my life in some way, I love that I can take it with me wherever I go or that it can sit on my bookshelf, holding memories in it like a beloved stuffed animal or a framed photograph.

My bank account certainly won’t thank me, but I have no plans to give up this addiction.

… Although I may have to rethink the job application I picked up for Barnes and Noble…

Memories Worth Fighting For

A Much Needed Reminder from The Giver.

Currently Reading: Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut

Think of your most cherished memories. The happiest, most contented, safe feelings you’ve ever had.

There are several I can think of for myself…Laughing and singing badly on the St. Lawrence River with some of my oldest friends… My family decorating our forest-worthy-sized Christmas tree with familiar, funky, and beautiful ornaments while carols from childhood play on our stereo in the background…Staring out at the New Mexico landscape from the top of Chimney Rock, not a single car, house, or person to be seen for miles and miles… Waking up next to a gorgeous man, with him caressing my arm, smiling and staring into my eyes…. My last night in college, spent in the local bar with some amazing people until close when everyone sang the traditional close song before randomly bursting into our Alma Mater… So much laughter, silliness and comfort that all make my heart swell in my chest like the Grinch's at the end of the story it’s so full of love and joy…

Now think of your worst memories. The ones you would wipe from your mind if you could. The ones that make your heart ache and your eyes sting with tears.

My first truly intense heartbreak… Watching my mother eulogize her brother as he lies still in the coffin behind her, eerily looking like he’s just napping… The misery of months filled with panic attacks so horrible I felt glued to my bed, wide-eyed with fear night after night… The shockwave of pain sent through my arm as cloth lightly brushed against my staph-infected skin at age eleven… Repeat images playing on television of the destruction and nightmare come to life that were the collapsing World Trade Centers… The vacant, ghost-like look on my best friend’s face as she emptily hugged me at the funeral for her first love… The agony my father and family face every day now as we adjust to his new state of paralysis… So many moments and looks of deep exhaustion and depression that make my heart literally feel as if someone is twisting it in my chest, attempting to pull it free so it won’t ever have to feel again…

Now, I want you to imagine a world in which you never had to experience any of those worst memories. No horrors, no pain, no hurt, no depression, no anxiety. The catch? You would have to sacrifice all those cherished experiences as well.

Would you do it? Would you trade in those wonderful moments of exquisite happiness to never experience any of that anguish?

In Lois Lowry’s The Giver, twelve-year-old Jonas exists in just such a world; a world devoid of the extremes of emotions and so obsessed with "sameness" that its citizens can’t even experience color. However, the perfection of Jonas's community comes crashing down around him when he is selected to become the new, highly respected Receiver of Memory. In this job, Jonas receives all the memories of worlds past from a man called The Giver, carrying this burden so the rest of the community don't have to. He discovers the wonders of sledding, sunbathing, family, and love, but in turn learns of the monstrosities of war, the intense pain of injuries as small as sunburn and as large as shattering your leg bone, and the horrible truths about the cost of living in such a safe, but controlled environment.

Bizarrely, this novel spoke to me a lot more during this second reading, despite the fact that I’m now almost eleven years older than the main character. In a strange way, I relate more to Jonas's experiences now than I did when I was actually his age. This is largely because we find ourselves at the end of childhood without entirely becoming adults yet. 


However, I found myself jealous of Jonas and his peers because their end brings a certain beginning.


At the Ceremony of Twelve, his future will be decided as he is given a career field to pursue for the rest of his life. When I graduated from college a year ago, I somewhat thought my ceremony would have the same results. I’d come out with a direction and a path to my future. Instead, I was shoved out of my safe community and placed at a fork in the road with hundreds of options… and I feel frozen to the spot with fear.

Almost hilariously, the fears that have me glued to the spot are summed up nicely in a conversation Jonas has with The Giver in the middle of the novel. He indignantly cries that it’s not fair that he lives in a world without the opportunity to choose anything, agreeing with The Giver that it doesn’t matter how small the decision is, it’s “the choosing that’s important” (Lowry 98). However, The Giver points out that people might make mistakes and suddenly it dawns on Jonas how dangerous it is to allow people to choose their own destinies.

“What if they were allowed to choose their own mate? And chose wrong?” Jonas asks. Continuing this thought process, “almost laughing at the absurdity”, he ponders, “Or what if… they chose their own jobs?” (Lowry 98).

Over and over, this has been the fear running through my head, the thought that keeps me from taking a step in any direction. What if I choose wrong? What if I’m not qualified to do this? Will I be able to fix the mistakes I make if I choose to make them?

I’m embarrassed that living in this utopian society where the choice would be made for me sounds pretty damn good right now. If I lived in Jonas’s community, I would be eleven years into a career path now, not trying to figure out my first step into a career. There’d be fewer options in the first place and money would be so much less of a factor! I wouldn’t feel overwhelmed by life and I’d be moving forward instead of standing still. God, that sounds so nice right now!

And how wonderful would it be if my father never had to experience any of the unbelievable pain he’s in? Wouldn’t it be great if we lived in a world without wars, without starvation, without heartache? It all really does sound ideal when you’re actually faced with life-changing decisions and pain, something most twelve-year-olds have never truly experienced, making this book infinitely more poignant now.

But what I love about this book is that it helps me remember why our world is still superior. Yes, it’s full of terrifying decisions and awful realities, but it’s also full of indescribable beauty and ecstasy that the members of Jonas’s community would never know. Those cherished memories? The love I’ve been enveloped in my whole life? They are what make this imperfect world so worth the bad stuff and I wouldn’t trade them for anything. 

The Sirens of Titan-ic Concepts for a Blog Post

Currently (Re-) Reading: The Giver by Lois Lowry

Warning: This post is really long... I tried to shorten it I swear.

Could it be? Is it true? Yes. It is the long-promised The Sirens of Titan post!

Please, try to contain your excitement.

First, allow me to give a brief synopsis of the novel for all interested parties.

Essentially, the plot revolves around two characters: Winston Niles Rumfoord and Malachi Constant.

The former is a space/time traveler stuck in a phenomenon called the chronosynclastic infundibula, which causes him to periodically materialize on Earth, Mars, Mercury, and Titan. Despite having read and re-read the explanation of this phenomenon numerous times, the best I can understand it is that it allows those caught in it to be in multiple places both periodically and at one time. This means that the traveler simultaneously knows what has happened, what is currently happening, and what will happen. Again, this is the best explanation I can offer. In my defense, I’m not a science major and it’s a fictional space phenomenon!

The latter character, Malachi Constant, is the heir to a multi-million dollar fortune – created through sheer dumb luck – who gets swept up into an elaborate scheme Rumfoord has concocted involving a Martian army and a new world “religion.”

Intrigued and confused yet?

Although this may seem like an impossibly hard plot, don’t let this deter you from picking up this book! The chronosynclastic infundibula is pretty much the hardest plot point to understand, I promise. And as it turns out, Vonnegut is not a hard read when you take the novel at face value.

Honestly, this was one of the most shocking parts of this reading experience for me. I was expecting Joseph Heller levels of pretentious, challenging writing in which you literally have to look up at least one word every three pages. What I found was something completely different. Compared to Heller, Vonnegut’s writing is like a giant, welcoming hug, even cleverly spelling out the most complicated concepts through quoting chunks of fictitious children’s novels in order to use the simplest language in his explanation. How inviting and easy it all seems…

However, it turns out that Vonnegut is simply showing his readers there’s nothing up his sleeves before performing Houdini or David Blaine levels of mind-blowing magic.

Because, holy crap is there a lot more to this book than the simple writing and characters let on. Guess that makes sense since the book is not really about the characters or plot. Rather it’s a novel dedicated to exploring an idea and oh hey! That idea? Oh, it’s just, “What is the meaning of human life?” So this should be a breeze to discuss and analyze, right?

Bahahahahahahahaha!

Well done, Meredith! Way to take on the colossus of idea books as your first analytical blog piece. Kudos on your pick, you moron!

Before I continue this post any further, I want to say this up front and in the most obvious, clear way I can:

THIS CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS!!!

So if you have any intention of reading this novel – which I thoroughly recommend! – you may want to turn around now and come back when it’s safe to read.

…

Everyone leave who needs to leave? Yes? OK, then let’s move on.

One of the most fascinating aspects of the novel for me was the stark contrast between Rumfoord and Constant’s levels of control in their lives.

As mentioned earlier, Rumfoord has the advantage of knowledge throughout the novel. He is constantly living his life both in the moment and in the past, which means he already knows what will happen while it’s happening. In other words, Rumfoord can essentially predict the future. This power helps him to achieve a god-like status among his peers, allowing him to control hundreds of humans' lives, including Constant's. In fact, his level of control over everyone’s lives is so intense that he can orchestrate large, public ceremonies and a war between Earth and Mars.

And then there’s Constant, whose life functions in pretty much the polar opposite way. Even before he becomes a pawn in Rumfoord’s chess game, Constant’s success in life is created entirely out of luck and his level of control only decreases. He’s dragged all over the universe through Rumfoord’s manipulations with so little control he barely even controls his identity, as his name changes from Constant to Unk to Space Wanderer throughout the novel. In fact, his journey reads a lot like someone who is caught in a crowd and keeps moving with the force to avoid being trampled, but with no idea where everyone’s going.

The reader thinks he has it all figured out. Rumfoord is using his knowledge from his space/time travel to twist everyone’s Fates, including Constant’s, to fit his plans to create a worldwide religion with Rumfoord at the center. Hooray! The book is wrapped into a nice package of a power-hungry, all-knowing dictator!

… And then Vonnegut throws the twist at you.

As the quote from Esquire magazine says on the cover of my copy of the book: Vonnegut “dares not only to ask the ultimate question about the meaning of life, but to answer it.”

Yup. You can stop looking for answers now, because Vonnegut has them! Aren’t you glad you’re reading my blog?

According to Vonnegut, everything humans have done since 203,117 B.C. has been to deliver a spaceship part to an alien named Salo from the planet Tralfamadore whose ship broke down on Titan so that he can continue his mission to carry a message from “One Rim of the Universe to the Other” (Vonnegut 274).

And when I say everything humans have done, I mean everything. Every giant structure, including Stonehenge and the Great Wall of China, was a message to Salo that the part was on its way. Every great civilization was created to make those structures/messages. And everything Rumfoord manipulated everyone on Earth, including Malachi Constant, to do was to get Constant’s son, Chrono, to Titan with his “good luck” piece…which is the part of the ship Salo needs.

So in reality, no one has been in control of his life, including Rumfoord. Everyone has been used as a means to an end for the Tralfamadorians’ plan for thousands of years.

The kicker? The oh-so-important message that Salo has been carrying? It turns out it simply says, “Greetings.”

It may be kind of bleak, but I actually kind of like the message Vonnegut is trying to convey. Essentially the novel is pointing out that humans are just tiny specks in the universe so to think we are here to serve some special purpose is pretty conceited. Even if we are here to serve a purpose, the universe is so expansive and our perspectives are so limited, there’s no way we could possibly understand what that purpose is.

So maybe there is a plan, maybe there is Fate, but really? We should stop worrying about it and just live our lives.

Read Light, Green Light: Stop and Go Reading Frustrations

Currently Reading: The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut

If you just looked at the “Currently Reading” and thought to yourself, “Still?” – trust me, you’re not alone.

For the record, I had intended to be done reading The Sirens of Titan in time to make it my third blog post. However, I have finished neither reading the book nor coming up with a specific and interesting enough topic related to it to warrant a post. Nevertheless, I’m afraid of losing oh-so-precious momentum, so I decided it was better to post something, even if I’m still not discussing a particular book like I’ve been promising to do, than to just not post at all.

So instead, I’m going to take this opportunity to vent a little about the main frustration I’ve encountered while reading The Sirens of Titan: the importance of pace.

So much of how you feel about a book depends on the pace at which you read it. It’s truly a shame that life very rarely allows for you to completely indulge in reading a book and escape into its clutches to the point where you can read a 300 page book in a day. I don’t think it’s an unfair claim to say that no one can have a career as a professional bookworm – but if you can, please hit me up and I’ll send you my resume STAT! – so for the most part, we all have other commitments that get in the way of this uninterrupted pace that allows for the most enjoyment. And it’s frustrating to me that it can absolutely affect your feelings about the book.

For example, I love the book Life of Pi by Yann Martel. In fact, I just finished re-reading it. It’s one of my most recommended books and has one of the most beautiful, symbiotic viewpoints on world religion I’ve ever come across with a fantastic twist that messes with your head and gets you thinking. So when I began dating someone not long after finishing the book the first time, I insisted that he read it! I just knew he would love it as intensely as I did and was excited to start discussing it once he was done. (Because who wouldn’t want to go on a date where all you do is discuss a book? Hot stuff, right?) To my disappointment, it took my boyfriend months to barely get halfway through the book. I’m fairly certain he finished it, but we definitely never had any discussions about it beyond him saying, “I thought it was good, but I didn’t think it was that good. Not a lot happens.”

I was indignant. WHAT?! Not a lot happens?! The kid is only stranded at sea with a TIGER! And who cares either way when the book is so beautifully written?!

In my mind, this was almost a dump-able offense.

However, I realized upon my second reading of the book that the fact that he and I initially read Life of Pi at vastly different paces validated his opinion. I forced the book on him during his second semester of junior year in college, a notoriously stressful time at my college. He had papers, tests, service trip fundraising, club positions, and a job to fill up the time he wasn’t actually in class. Not to the mention the not insignificant time-suck that was dating me… Finding time to read for pleasure in that kind of environment is almost on par with finding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. So major kudos to him for even making the effort let alone actually finishing the thing!

On the other hand, my first reading of Life of Pi was pretty much in the polar opposite environment. It was my travel book for what was essentially a day-long trip from South Carolina to Pennsylvania with a layover in Chicago. I was cut off from other distractions – friends, school, phone calls, emails, Facebook, DVDs, etc. – and had no commitments, just time to kill. It was glorious uninterrupted, guilt-free reading for hours! I devoured that book, resenting the airplane for landing in my final destination when I was so tantalizingly close to the end! So upon returning to my dorm room, I promptly ignored my suitemates and homework (that had piled up from a weekend away) until the shocking twist had been revealed and I could close the book with intense satisfaction.

It’s a small wonder that for me the book was fast-paced and addicting while he found it somewhat slow and good, but not great. After all, reading it a second time – when I also had a full time job and other commitments to contend with – I realized that the protagonist is stranded at sea for over half the book. It’s not like there’s a whole lot changing beyond his developing survival skills until he discovers the incredibly bizarre and confusing Meerkat Island (seriously, does anyone know what that was about?!?!?!).

Despite the fact that it seems like a well-written book should be considered a great book no matter what, pace will absolutely factor into that evaluation. I’m not saying it’s impossible to recognize the merits of a novel on its own, but I contend that your enjoyment level of the novel is almost directly related to the pace at which you read it. If you constantly have to stop and start a book, it’s almost impossible to get a good flow going and you’ll never allow the book to transport you into its world, one of the most amazing experiences reading has to offer.

To me, it doesn’t seem like stop-and-go reading should be this way. I often get as attached to characters in a novel as I get to my flesh and blood friends so I consistently think that picking up a book after a long break should be like picking up with friends after a long separation. You may have to refresh each other on what’s just happened in your lives, but it should feel comfortable and easy. Unfortunately, the experience is usually much more akin to driving in D.C. traffic during rush hour. Either you’ll inch along painfully slowly or you’ll get chunks where you can go the speed limit but still end up slamming on the brakes every 3 miles. It’s jolting and frustrating and usually leads to fits of road rage from even the most mild-tempered person.

So if you’re thinking of starting a book in this kind of environment, it might be worth it to just wait until rush hour’s over. Because it won’t matter if you have great music on the radio, nice enough weather to keep the windows down, or a scenic drive. The stop-and-go flow will still make the experience suck at least a little bit. 

Explanation, Procrastination... Potato, Potahto

Currently Reading: The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut

Before I actually get into discussing a specific book, I thought I should give a little more explanation about the direction and motivation for this blog. Rest assured, I do have more of a plan to this than just reading anything and then rambling about it (however, I reserve the right to change my mind about that and do not in any way promise it won’t occasionally happen… I tend to ramble). Also, I’m a little nervous about trying to analyze a book in an interesting way so I might be procrastinating just a little bit… not that I do that normally or anything *shifty eyes*...

To address the motivation part of this explanation, I had a few reasons for starting a blog besides a masochistic desire to essentially make myself do the work of an English class without any of the typical rewards, like a grade. Chief among those reasons is the desire – no, the need for more intellectual stimulation in my life because, frankly, I don’t get a lot of it from day to day. I have incredibly interesting and brilliant friends so when I have the opportunity to engage in conversations with them beyond life updates, it’s enough to sustain me for a period of time. However, in general, my life does not offer much to rouse my brain from its semi-comatose state. In fact, when I find myself going from staring at a computer at work for eight hours to staring at a TV or computer at home for another four hours before crashing, I can almost literally hear my brain cells screaming out in agony as they wither away and evaporate like the melting Wicked Witch of the West. Although, their cry is a little different…

“We’re staaarrrrvvviiinnggg!” POOF!

Because unlike the Wicked Witch, my brain cells are not melting, they’re dying. Dying of starvation. They need more nourishment and I have been a less than stellar provider, mostly leaving them pretty malnourished with Grey’s Anatomy and Friends episodes I’ve seen six zillion times already. Don’t get me wrong! My mind has enjoyed the diet of mental sweets and junk food, but I’m aware that it can’t be a long term habit without some side effects I don’t want.

One such side effect is intense laziness. Lethargy is oddly a very exhausting existence (Ugh. I guess I have to shower and feed myself. Oh god! Why is the bathroom two yards away?!! Ugh! Why is life so hard?!?). So you tend to give way to Newton’s first law of motion, which is basically an object at rest will remain at rest unless acted upon by another force, and believe me! My mind has been firmly at rest basically since graduation. I’m not sure which force was the one that had enough velocity behind it to get my mind – and my butt – in motion again, but I’m certainly grateful for it!

I do know that one of those forces was the idea that has propelled me towards creating a blog. It is the personal project I've decided to take on that will provide my brain with the sustenance it needs and my blog with more focused subject matter.

Welcome to… “Operation Become Less of An English Major Fail!”

Ok. Not the catchiest title, but it’s accurate.

Because something that has been bothering me for a couple years now are the major gaps in my English education.

Before I explain further, let me just say that I in no way blame this on any of the English teachers or professors I’ve had over the years. Looking back, I really can’t think of any English teachers I didn’t like and I can think of more than a handful that I would say I loved and that helped shape my life, corny and cliché as that may sound. Plus, the continuation of the gaps in college was mostly my fault given that I was in control of the courses I took and, therefore, of which books I read.

That being said, it truly stuns me sometimes to think about all of the classic and famous novels I haven’t read! Especially the ones that are typical reading for secondary school. I mean, really? I haven’t read 1984? I’ve never cracked the cover of The Grapes of Wrath? It took me until the summer after college to finally read Catch 22?  

And you call yourself an English major? My inner critic scoffs.

I’m not sure who thought it was more important for me to read any of the rather obscure books I did than it was for me to read Brave New World or Wuthering Heights, but I’d have to disagree with their choices.

So I’m taking matters into my own hands. I have no definitive list of these “classics” to work off of at the moment, but I’m trying to find one from a reputable source and work my way through it (P.S. I’d really appreciate if anyone had any suggestions!). However, I don’t just want to read these novels the way I would mindlessly read a book at the beach. It feels like I would be missing out on half the experience of reading them if I didn’t take the time to analyze them the way I would have if they had actually been assigned reading.

Lucky – or completely unlucky – for you, for an unlimited time only, there’s a space on this journey for everyone!

Before you decide that this idea makes reading my blog sound as painful as having a cavity filled while the dentist simultaneously breaks your nose, I’d like to point out that the beauty of a blog is that this does not have to be written in a formal or academic way at all. I’m excited at the prospect of writing about what I'm reading without needing to filter what I say to make it appropriate to hand in for a grade. If a character is acting like an ass, I don’t have to find the polite way of saying, “He’s acting like an ass." I can just say it.

With a fire suddenly and inexplicably set under my butt to finally get started, I’m armed with a purpose and a plan and beginning this blog. Provided I can actually stop procrastinating on doing the hard part...

Prologue

Currently Reading: The Sirens of Titan  by Kurt Vonnegut

Greetings blogosphere! Welcome to Novel Ideas, a nerdy English major’s catharsis in which she can discuss, critique, mock, rant about, gush over, and just generally talk about books.

When I graduated from The College of William & Mary about a year ago, I promptly threw a congratulatory celebration for myself about never having to write an academic paper or analyze a book ever again! I patted myself on the back and, honestly, had a beer or two for surviving the Paper Regime, an era of oppression that included the year of six English courses and the infamous (among my friends and family) “Duck Paper,” a 22-paged paper all about ducks. Yeah. Ducks. I’m a fountain of somewhat useless duck facts now. The latter was the last college paper I ever had to write and I rejoiced! Finally! It was all over! Never again would I have to wrack my brain for an original and genius paper topic! Never again would I have to stress about the perfect thesis wording! Never again would my poor books be overwhelmed with post-it notes marking the perfect supporting quotes! Never again would a paper force me to pull an all-nighter – a practice I had become as accustomed to as someone who regularly travels between the United States and China! Freedom felt good.

I further praised myself for outwitting many of my paper-oppressed peers. Unlike those poor souls, I had made the brilliant and practical decision to enter the (slightly more) lucrative, paper-free “real world” after college instead of grad school. Much like Peter Pan, I was smug over “the cleverness of me.” You think you’re so smart going to grad school? I thought, Then how come I’m staying up until 4 AM because I’m having fun at a bar and you’re up until 4 AM writing a paper? MWAHAHAHAHA! Take THAT future Masters and Doctors!

But then a strange thing began happening… 

I initially enjoyed the first months of paper freedom, during which the most writing I did was on gchat or Facebook, with a few cover letters (the bane of my existence) thrown in there. Then, I started feeling the itch to read again, a normal enough feeling for me. So I thought I could get a quick fix with reading a book for pleasure. Only, oddly, I couldn’t just enjoy a book anymore. Instead, I found myself unconsciously analyzing what I was reading… and then craving to discuss it! I missed the more challenging novels in my English classes. I missed the discussions with my English classmates. I missed questioning aspects of a novel and then proposing possible answers. 

Slowly, the horrifying truth became so clear I couldn’t ignore it:

I missed writing academic papers.

Oh cruel irony.

The first step is admitting I have a problem. Hello, my name is Meredith and I’m an eternal English nerd. The second step? Getting a blog of course!

So here I am. Ready to dive back into books and into book analysis and discussion!

Admittedly, I’m pretty new to the world of blogging. I’ve only had one narcissistic (and thankfully brief) encounter with a Livejournal when I was fifteen and from that time – and the unfortunate time of Xanga – I have associated blogging with whiny, spiteful teenagers who don’t understand that their problems are not actually that interesting, unique or problematic. Or with people who have found far too specific a niche like reviewing the different types of Doritos. Can you say, “I have too much time on my hands”? However, after seeing some beautifully done blogs (including my friend Miriam’s – whose life is FAR more interesting than mine will ever be), I’m taking the plunge! 

Hopefully I’ll have something novel to say :)