Me: "Who has the best seat in the house, me or daddy?"

Adam: "Well, Daddy's is nice, but yours is best. Your's is squishier."

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Sleeping Like a Baby

Takes on a whole new meaning, doesn't it?

When I was in High School I read the bible cover to cover.  
It mostly went over my head.

Before I go to sleep each night, I read.  It has varied over the years, but lately I am reading the New Testament.  Paul confuses me.  I have read the same chapter every night for four nights, trying to get the deeper meaning there.  He repeats himself over and over, and I have to believe there was more to it than that he figured the listener needed to have the message drummed into their skull.

I am also trying to read all of the classics I pretended to read in High School, and a few others that people I really respect have recommended.  I started with The Lonesome Gods, and about 50 pages in, I found myself daydreaming while reading.  I have a hard time not completing a book, and almost always will see a book through to the end, even if I hate it, but this time I decided that what made this a classic for some people didn't necessarily speak to my soul.  Not like To Kill a Mockingbird did, or Snow Flower and the Secret Fan.  Then I tried Patriots, but was utterly lost in the deep politics and history of the Founding Fathers.  I got halfway through John Adams and put it down.  I decided I should go with a book I had heard the name of often over the years.  In fact, that was the very reason I had never read it... I never have liked doing things just because everyone else liked doing them.  

Jane Eyre.

The first night was a doozy. I got four pages in and put it down, confused, and completely unable to follow the old language style used in the writing.  I felt rather stupid, frankly.  I closed the book and set it down, and suffered a little while in the darkness of my room.  Maybe, even though I really want to be a well educated, well rounded person, I haven't got the grey matter.  

What I lack in cerebral substance I generally make up for in an utter sick-to-it-ness.

Night two went better.  Way, way better.  I figured out who all the characters were and the impossibly eloquent language slowly began to congeal in my corpus callosum.

Now I do not sleep at night.  
Not like a baby, 
not before 2AM. 

Wow.  What a book.  What a writer.  What a story.
I wish I had a story to tell.  I wish I had words like that,
 that kind of passion and genius.

I may not sleep well till the book is done, and then I must remember what it did to me when I read Death of a Salesman, and could barely function for 2 weeks afterward.  Books can change who you are at your core.  Will this be that kind of book?

Oh, Miss Bronte.  
What have you done?

1 comment:

julean said...

I'm so glad to get all caught up on your blog. About Jane eyre...It is really my favorite novel for so many reasons. It is almost like poetry...not to mention Jane! I feel so smart when I read it. You are already starting to feel smarter, aren't you? After you finish, let's have a little book club of our own. I can't wait to hear what you think...maybe I'll read it again to prepare.