After I posted about The Things They Carried, I felt like I wasn’t fully expressing what I wanted to say…
shoot, i majored in this stuff, right? it seems like i should be able to better articulate how I really like his writing, without just repeating, “seriously, it’s good…”
Also thinking about my original intent for this blog, and how i want to explore BOTH how what we read informs our lives, and how our lives inform what we read.
Because there’s a difference.
I’m curious: what is it about this particular moment in my life that makes me open to this book?
I scanned the book selection at sam’s, and might have been drawn to any number of them, but with this one there was no question. I saw it, and then it was in my cart. No hesitation.
I know my trip to Vietnam in 08 plays a big part. It’s the same reason I read (and really liked) The Quiet American–another war novel (a different war) with male protagonists. Not necessarily my style, but really good for me to read.
Then once I started reading it, I also wonder: what about this book is just for this particular moment in my life?
It’s informing my thoughts about the process of writing nonfiction.
It’s helping me learn about something new and expanding my scope of interest.
These are good things for me right now.
The question: why? (why read it. why learn this. why watch that.) is something worth considering in the choices we all make for how we spend our time.
(after all, as my numbers-minded friend Amanda is quick to point out, if we read one book a week [and that’s an impressive estimate] we only have 2800ish books to go if we live until 80…)
True, that’s a lot of books. But it’s also a finite number. It ends.
It’s the truth, son. Reading war books makes you tough.