It struck me today that it is actually a bit suprising, to me at least, that I don't write more often about the books I read, in stark contrast to music and (occasionally) games. I don't think it creates a particularly accurate reflection of my interests; it seems uncomfortably close to the writers I see on various other blogs where every post is a rave about a song/album/bargain buy. I don't think anything wrong with these blogs, mind you, I just feel like it is somehow misleading for me to fit into that category (for whatever reason, I am mildly interested in the image I project here!).

It is similar to how I rarely feel inclined to write about movies, although here it is probably more to do with the fact that I don't watch enough movies to have any interesting observations to make. But there is nonetheless, I think, a similarity between my silence on books and movies - as best I can make out, the reason is primarily a sense of humility taken to its logical conclusion, namely, a complete lack of faith in my tastes and opinions!

To an extent, it is of course well-founded, but it does make me wonder where I get the gall to write about other topics, given that I am objectively about the same level when it comes to exposure to them. Where does the embarassment to write about my thoughts on a book arise from? I find it interesting that I would not hestiate to say that I find, for example, Astral Weeks a difficult album to listen to, but I feel positively foolish admitting that I find The Sound And The Fury a difficult book to read*. Perhaps it has to do with the culture of those attracted to the different mediums? I guess in my head, I still have the antiquated (?) view of the posh literary scholar being the type of person most likely to read similar material (never mind that this is laughably inaccurate when it comes to me!), and I fear his/her...smug dismissal!?!

Such a picture is formed by chance glimpses of people like the one I saw today, with long hair and exotic clothes, well-thumbed copy of The Brothers Karamazov in hand. I initially get excited when this happens, and feel like striking up a conversation and remarking on how much I enjoyed the book. But at the same time, I fear it will lead them to realize how unrefined I am, and how unusual my recollection of a book can be. I shudder at being asked something like "Powerful stuff in that 'Grand Inquisitor' chapter, eh?", and having to fumble through a response that belies my reading of the book due to its lack of, firstly, sophistication, but also, genuine insight. Herein is another similarity to how I judge movies, because in both cases I seem to walk away with some sense of the overall picture of the piece, but it is not all that uncommon for me to fumble on the basics. This does not seem to have any relationship with the quality I perceive in the book, which is frustrating as it means that even with books I like, and ones I deeply admire, I am often unable to engage in meaningful discussions about them. The Brothers Karamazov is one good example of this, but one of the most embarassing ones is the venerable Hitchiker's Guide To The Galaxy, which I shudder to confess that I have read, as it is often followed by questions of the form "Remember the bit where ...? Hilarious!". I draw a blank, and forge laughter, trying desperately to change the subject!**

So essentially, it seems that while I have no trouble admitting to myself (or to you just now, gentle reader) my troubles with certain books, would I care to admit as much to the one who is truly learned? Never! :)

* I think I have forgotten what it is like to struggle with a book, so lax have I been with reading over the last few years. Back in the day, I would fearlessly stride through all manner of books hopelessly over my league, struggling to grasp even the basic idea of what was being said, but somehow not losing faith and insteading marching on. It is fun, to a point, to struggle again!

** Of course, there is the possibility that this is symptomatic of my complete inability to truly appreciate literature and film...but while I am normally quite happy to settle with such a blithe, self-deprecating answer, I do not think it is true in this case. While there are instances where this would be true, I still feel that even when I do find something incredibly affecting, with time my grasp on the specifics tends to weaken.