I had a deep conviction that I was good at writing, and in some way I already was a writer, this conviction was completely independent of the fact of my having ever written anything, or being able to imagine ever writing anything, that I thought anyone would like to read.
This sentence made me sit up straight as I read it. It's from Elif Batuman's The Idiot, a book I rated an unassuming three stars on goodreads but still think of fondly. Such is the power of an honest line to ascend from its body and drag it to my memory.
I say “honest”, because it is truthful to my nature. As you have likely assumed, I love reading. Over any other forms of art, I think of it as the more introspective and highly personal. Not because I am a big “self-insert” reader, not at all, but because it is the only art form (that I know of) whose consumption is principally an internal process.
Most readers would say, “I read for escapism,” these people seek generally the fantasy or romance genre. But why not movies or video games? I hardly hear anyone say that they see movies as an escape as much as a reader would upon sharing their interest in books. Because reading is principally an internal process.
An escapist bibliomaniac may sacrifice the stimulating visuals of a film to satiate their fantasies because reading puts them in an empathetic state. I say “process” because you have to work to read. In cinema you may sit and shut your brain off and you can absorb at least the surface of the story, but you cannot read mindlessly. You have to be present. Your presence makes the novel the more genuine, pardon the cliché, experience. Oscar Wilde says in the preface of his obra maestra:
It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors.
As much as we detach ourselves from the media we consume, the act of consumption itself is unquestionably tied to our person. In music, the voice of the singer takes me away, but in reading I have to take myself because it can take a skilled author to strongly influence how we engage with a text. Of course there are a lot of intentions from the author, but there are a lot of undertones that are present only to me. There is no true universal language. Aldous Huxley says:
We exchange [words] from prison to prison.
I remember reading reviews on Frankenstein by my patron saint Mary Shelley. A one star review, as a justification for the disesteem, simply wrote an oversimplified version of the story in a mocking tone. I was younger then, I felt appalled by the sheer negligence of which that person read such masterpiece! But what do I know? It could be a variety of things: their mood, age, taste. It could be their entire life that lead up to their mind not aligning with the text.
Art is subjective in terms of enjoyment and personal impact. But I do not disregard the form or the standards, though for an artist to do so is a creative choice in of itself. I respect a lot of novels that I consider inadequate but are applauded by many because it must have taken a special kind of person indeed to give space for a collective mind. Only a lot of them, not all, for some are rather vapid and align themselves to the worse part of our culture. On the other hand, I do not let only myself be judge of what I would consider “good” or “bad”, if those are even the better words to say. After all, art is about perspective. I read outside the book to know it, and then I appreciate it. Maya Hawke sings:
I saw a movie everybody hated
In an empty theatre in Duluth
Swear I really loved it
Love is such a better thing to do
Love is such a better thing to do! And I do just love that line… I make an effort to love a lot of things, even if only a facet of it.
But more than love or hate is effect. Reading has changed my brain in more ways I can imagine or recognize. But one I know is this: reading made me a writer. Even before I have pledged myself in this hobby, I have been writing. My sixth grade Journalism adviser read my practice paper and said that we’ll have a winner! And we did. My interning teacher told me on the same year to never stop writing. I have always loved the English subject and did well. My friends love what I write. Only now that I am forced to think about future prospects did I ever consider writing as a possible path. I don't and I do. I feel that I simply am a writer, though I have only written for school and for myself.
Yes, I do consider writing as an inevitable end to reading. Maybe not for everyone, but most likely for those who read for the sake of literature itself. That's just how it is, I mean you read and it alters your thought process. You may start to think like a writer, and for the many words to not overpower you and let you sleep where else do you put it? I choose to share it.
This writing of mine is for the purpose sharing because it would also relieve me. I could write in my journal or talk to friends, but this method calls to me. So yes, this is a message or this is a self-indulgence.
Mentioned (recommendations, if you will):
The Idiot by Elif Batuman
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
After Many a Summer Dies the Swan by Aldous Huxley
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
Sweet Tooth by Maya Hawke
what a text, so well-written!
and I feel so much of it (restacked a bunch of phrases actually). everything that makes language an type of art mesmerize me, so I think we feel the need to also be part of the construction of this work.
loved the way you presented the books and other pieces, please continue this project, all the love and support!