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Book Project: Writing
Bookshelf at Kennedy's in New York
[Photo by KPA]
I've been away from books. It used to be that I would have a couple of books on the works, usually one fiction and another cultural/art/biographical book. At school, I would find a quiet place to read a chapter, or half a chapter, before returning to school projects. My favorite place as a young girl was the seat of a tree-trunk. At work, I would use my lunch breaks, or coffee breaks, to read. At home, I would reduce the number of hours sitting in front of the television to resume a chapter I had to leave to return to other pressing matters.
In the past few years, it could be that I became disappointed with the selection of new books available these days, or that I had read enough of the classics that I wanted something modern and fresh. Yet almost all the modern books disappointed me, and I stopped buying books. I left off re-reading the classics. I started to spend more time on short on-line articles on the internet. And I started watching movies, and literary adaptations on television. I read fewer and fewer books.
Recently, I have gone back to books. I sit at a restaurant, or a coffee house, and bring my books, often two at a time, as I explained earlier my reading habits: Ernest Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises, C. S. Lewis' Mere Christianity, Brian Morton's Starting Out in the Evening (a contemporary book which nonetheless won me over with its writing), Edith Hamilton's Mythology, Candice Bushnell's One Fifth Avenue (a witty contemporary book whose writer is of Sex and City fame), Roger Scruton's Beauty, Ron Chernow's Washington, and Nancy Berner's and Susan Lowry's Garden Guide: New York City.
I bought all but one of these books within the last year, so there's hope yet, except for Hemingway's which is an old edition which I bought at my undergraduate university's used book store (the bookstore's stamp - Paper Back Junction - is still on it, as well as an inscription by a reader dated '71, who wasn't a fan of the book, but I do disagree!).
It looks like I went into a flurry of buying, and reading, to make up for lost time, these past couple of years.
People seem to have some respect for books, and book readers. At the coffee house or restaurant which I visit more frequently (just a drink at both, and occasionally a meal at the restaurant), the owners/waiters/managers don't seem to mind that I choose a seat in the back, and that I could be there for an hour or more with just a coffee refill, or a plate of french fries, reading a book or taking and making notes. They seem to think I bring prestige to their place, and are kind and serviceable towards me.
Well, I did tell them something else, partly to alert them toward my long sit-times. "I am in the process of writing a book." I told one manager. I told him I come there to refresh my ideas, sometimes by reading another book, and other times by going over the notes I've made.
Since then, if he's not busy, he takes me to the quiet back area himself. And waiters (who desire to be writers?), actually sit down to chat with me. One in particular is too polite to ask direct questions, so I fill him in on the latest, if I can, and if I want to.
I wondered about this attention.
I think people are interested in those who do things, or who say they do things. And since I am coming into their premises to do something creative, they seem to want to make that as easy as possible for me.
I am often touched and surprised by their attention.
But, there is something else. I think there is a great deal of prestige given to writers. A writer, whether a fiction writer, a biographer, a political/social/cultural writer, invents something new through the sheer determination of his mind. It is creativity at the cerebral level, using the imagination of the writer and the reader to bring the work to life.
It is perhaps like the Bible. We have our created world, yet, in order to make sense of it, to analyze it, to make it a reality, God then created the Word. But the Bible is not just simply a descriptive account of the world around us. Its words create a myriad of things, from a literary masterpiece, a daily guideline, a family saga, a message bearer, a sin-identifier. Without this ability of the written word to convey so much, our Bible would be just another artifact, a prolonged magazine article, convincing no-one it is worthy to spend years to decipher its alphabets and words in order to read it, understand it, and make sense of our world through it.
I think that is what books are trying to do. And in a modest way, that is what I am trying to do.