My recent reading fascinations

I have been always a reader. It started very early when I was a solitary child and I occupied myself after my homework with reading. My mother had a very comprehensive library of classics. At that time in Poland, French literature came just after or just in front of Polish literature in the minds of those who knew what was what. The books were published in series. All books of the same author bound in covers of the same colour and design. Often the books were even bound in leather or some sort of fabric. One had to subscribe to buy such editions. My mother did and I suspect she bought all that was available. However, I do not remember any Dostoyevsky on the shelves. She may have been selective in her book choices, after all. I do not remember her reading the books, she may have only planned to read them one day. When the days when she had enough time to read came, she preferred to watch TV. So, I cannot remember my beautiful mother sitting with the book, engrossed in the story she would be reading. But the library was big and comprehensive. Balzac was all maroon colour, two Polish most famous poets of XIX century were one in pale blue and the other in brownish red with horizontal golden stripes. Polish Nobel prize winner in 1924, Reymont, got a special new covers ordered by my mother at a place that bound books to order. The spines were made of linen canvas. Influenced by my mother’s library and her, perhaps, exaggerated, care for the way the books looked like, I always believed that there is something very special about the written word. I became an avid reader then. I had a reading break for some years when I was working too intensively to read much except for books helping me to be successful at work. Now, I have returned to serious reading. And this is again literature rather than psychological of self-help books. I like nicely published books like my mother did and I often buy hardcover books when available. Or I buy books in Poland, they are much cheaper there than in Australia and they usually have great covers. Silly? Yes, it is silly, but my pleasure of reading nicely looking books seems to be bigger than reading ones that are flimsy and do not open properly.

Writing about my reading I just realized that this is the whole process for me and some trappings are of importance. The reading light needs to be good. But this is just common sense. I like nice bookmarks and I collect them. I have my special reading corners at home. Bookcases are the most important pieces of furniture.

HanyaYanagihara

Andre Aciman

Karl Ove Knausgaard

Kazuo Ishiguro

After some inner struggle, I have accepted retirement as my current way of life and reading became an important part of my life again. For a while, I did not have any favourite writers. I know the names of classics and I have a good idea what their writing is all about, but I was looking for some guidance. I have a friend who knows about literature and he made some very good suggestions and some very good presents that I had to read at least out of politeness. Slowly, the list of my absolute favourites got organically identified. It will perhaps grow or maybe even change, but for now, it is Ishiguro, Aciman, Knaussgard, and Yanagihara. I am catching up with works of Ishiguro and Aciman. They are my discoveries of the last six months. I already know Knausgaard quite well, but he is so prolific in his writing that there is always a stream of new books coming from him. Yanagihara’s next book will come in a good few years and I am already curious what her next subject will be.

I wondered what links the writers and why I got so attracted to their books. They all have the reputation of being “Proustian”. They all say that Dostoyevsky Chekhov and Proust had very big influence on them and the way they write. I know Chekhov only from his plays. Maybe I should read some of his stories? My favourites’ reading lists show me the way and I may follow their example one day. I have read Proust already. It took me many years, but I even enjoyed it and got the mood of the books. I have a problem with Dostoyevsky, though. I have read most of his books, but this was a very long time ago, I was very young then and perhaps I did not understand their value. Read him now again? This is rather off-putting. So intense, those turbulent feelings, tragedies all around, those Dostoyevsky’s women blindly following their men to perdition. A good way to get depressed. But I have his books on my shelves. Hmm…. No, not now.

If I chose to study literature rather than mathematics, I would most likely have stayed in Poland and landed up a teacher of a uni professor. I wonder how my life would have been then. Not that I have any regrets, just momentary curiosity.

Today, I have been reading the essays of Aciman – Alibis. The chapter Intimacy resonated with me a lot. Many ideas made me stop and ponder about myself. Apparently, according to Aciman, in the process of reading, we find ourselves and this may lead to deeper understanding of self. This is actually my reason for reading and this desire dictates the choice of books I read.

The sentence that made me stop and re-read it few times: Insight and intuition are borne from this intimate fusion of self with something or someone else. I think that other things can also be borne from such a fusion.

About the book I have not read…

and perhaps never will read – Never Let Me Go. If you read any of my reviews of Kazuo Ishiguro books, you know that I am going through a period of total fascination by his books and I think even more than his books only. I have listened to some interviews with the writer on YouTube including the Nobel Prize lecture and have read some of his earlier interviews. It all created an impression in me that I can not help but admire the man. And most of all I find the books, I have read so far, showing me part of myself I did not know before or was not clear about. This is what I like in books, more than a story, more than the language, more than a book structure.

I intend to read all of Ishiguro books except for this particular one, however, I may change my mind at some stage. The reason why I do not want to read the book is that of its sadness. I am not sure how much it would depress me. Or rather I suspect that it might depress me too much and I want to avoid it.

The reason why I decided to find out more about the book and what propelled me to start writing about my thoughts on the subject was talking yesterday to my dear friend about the book. She just finished it and was not sure what to make out of the book. One of the thoughts she had was that it is a warning against science going too far in interfering with human bodies.  I instinctively thought that this cannot be the message Ishiguro wanted to imprint on his readers. I said that, but I understood, of course, that my view was not substantiated my anything except my impressions created by other books and my personal interpretation. So, I thought that I should find out something about it and I listened to a couple of interviews with Ishiguro concerning the book. I was very happy to hear his comment about his disappointment at expressed views that the book is about experiments on human bodies and danger of cloning people. My intuition was right then. Listening to the interview I realized my reluctance to read this particular book was, in a way, justified, but also brought to my attention that I have not accepted my own mortality yet and I did not want to be confronted with the subject by the book. This is something which I need to come to grips with and perhaps reading the book may help me with it. The author says that the book is the metaphor of life which last a span and completes itself for each one of us. Wow, this turned out profound the way I put it (lol). In the book, the lifespan of the characters is about thirty years only. So, the book is sad, but not any more than life itself and apparently shows that there are reasons to live life well and meaningfully in spite (or because of) its limited time.

The book is about how we face the knowledge that our life is limited and how we live our life with the knowledge. There are things that are important to finish and finish well with understanding what is important.

I think that I’ll actually read the book in hope that it will help me to understand better what is important and take off the blinkers I still firmly have on.

I had a very loving mother, even if I sometimes doubted her love. She was protecting me from seeing the cruelty of life and imperfection of people. This was done often by misleading me and prolonging the time of innocent naivety presenting the world in pretty pictures. This meant that I may have left home not fully prepared to face the realities and that as a consequence I got hurt deeper than others not understanding for a while that people are imperfect and do not necessarily mean well.  This is what mothers typically do for their very young children, present the life as good, just, happy. And such are many moments in our lives. They are fleeting, but they are really good and worthwhile times in our lives and this is what we should strive to experience before our time comes.

I think, I may have got too far with my dissertations this time and I may remove or adjust the post, but for now, let me share it. My little end of the year indulgence.