(Really not) Bookin' it

If you'll notice over there in the sidebar, I finally changed the "What I'm reading" slot for the first time since I think May. Not that I actually think anyone really cares what I'm reading or how long it takes me to read it (because hello, how self-absorbed would that be?), but the past few weeks, I couldn't help remembering a post Nabbalicious wrote a few months ago, where she revealed that she'd gotten (from I think more than one person) an email message asking, "Dude, are you STILL reading Lolita?"*

I am not here to do a book report, but I will share a few thoughts on just why it took me damn near two months to get through an easy read that was less than 300 pages total. (Well, why, I mean, aside from all the various diversions in life that routinely keep me from reading: the socializing with friends, the landscaping my yard, the Internet addiction, the super-secret baby-gift knitting... (which really doesn't need to be a secret, as the mother-to-be never ever reads my blog), etc., etc., it's always something, right?) Anyway, first up, The May Queen. This came highly recommended by a few different people, though I don't remember for sure exactly who they were at this point.** Whoever it was raved about it a bit, and I read those raves, and I read the subtitle about "pulling it all together in your 30s," and I thought, Yes! This is the book I need! This is what I need to read right now, when I'm feeling all lost and directionless and like I'm just sort of letting my life pass by... When I'm feeling like I actually identify with Colin Hay when he sang about waiting for his real life to begin, even though I have no idea what I'm really waiting for or what would constitute a "real life" for me. This book will connect me with my kindred spirits, I thought.

Um, yeah. Not so much. I didn't hate it; in fact there were several essays in the book that I enjoyed a great deal. But on the whole, the book was about the very typical and traditional 30-something experience--the husband and kids and "my life changed and began when I finally became a mother" experience. That is not the life that is relate-able to me. That is the life I am seeing all around me and trying not to feel like a social deviant for not living, but it's not the life I needed to read about to help me "pull it all together in my 30s." I suppose I was looking for some proof that I'm the new norm, that the alternate and modern 30-something life of delayed decisions about marriage and children and of friends replacing family in your immediate circle (you know--the life I see in TV land) was the life many women my age are living. And I still do believe that many women my age are living that life and feeling just like me. Those women just aren't included in this book.

On to the other book that spent more time at my bedside than most of my ex-boyfriends: The Middle East for Dummies. Sadly, despite how long I held on to this one (I finally returned it to the library today, after renewing it at least two times), I can't even in good faith add it to my "Books I've read this year" list, because I really just couldn't bring myself to finish it. I honestly do want to understand the conflict in the Middle East--the current situation as well as all the many facets of history that have led to the current situation--and I thought that if a "Dummies" book couldn't help me with that, nothing could. Unfortunately, I apparently need to go even one easier than a "Dummies" book. I need the Cliff's Notes on the Dummies book. I need a compelling and polished and entertaining documentary on the subject. I've never read the Lord of the Rings books, but from my understanding, the first 1100 pages or so are all about establishing the map of Middle Earth and the various conflicts that developed before the "real" story ever actually began. I certainly don't mean to trivialize or belittle the massive history and culture of the Middle East by comparing it to the huge chunks of text cut out of the movie version of The Fellowship of the Ring, but my point is if I haven't even brought myself to read Tolkien, I have no idea why I thought I'd read this. If someone makes a movie version starring Viggo Mortensen, however, well then we'll talk.

Despite my struggle and disinterest, however, I had a hard time abandoning this book. It wasn't just because it was "good for me" (vegetables are good for me, and I still have no problem slighting them); it was because I have this thing where once I start a book, I have to finish it. I slogged my way through American Gods, cursing Neil Gaiman fans the whole way. I may have skimmed a few chapters in the last third of the book, but I finished it no less. A few years ago, when I was traveling a lot for work, I remember dragging a very large, very hardcover, very not-airplane-friendly copy of The Colony of Unrequited Dreams with me on flights all summer long. It came highly recommended by the Book of the Month Club and various Amazon reviewers, but I hated damn near every page of it. And yet, I persevered. In fact, the only novel I can remember actually abandoning for good was Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. I'd read The Fountainhead, and I thought surely I could finish that one as well. I've tried three times, and I don't think I've ever made it past page 100. I'm convinced I'll finish it someday, but I'm starting to wonder what is the point. Life is short, and reading should be enjoyable. I can be a smart and thinking woman and still not enjoy Ayn Rand. Maybe it's OK to accept that.

This insight didn't just come from my disdain for Ayn Rand or my inability to get absorbed in The Middle East for Dummies, however. It came from Nancy Pearl. NPR listeners may know Pearl from her spots on Morning Edition. Novelty store shoppers may know her as the model for the Librarian Action Figure (with amazing push-button shushing action!). I heard Pearl speak at the Minneapolis Public Library a few weeks ago, and one of the many things I took away from her talk was the "Rule of 50," which, according to Pearl, goes something like this:

If you're 50 years old or younger, give every book about 50 pages before you decide to commit yourself to reading it, or give it up.

If you're over 50, which is when time gets shorter, subtract your age from 100--the result is the number of pages you should read before deciding whether or not to quit. If you're 100 or over, you get to judge the book by its cover, despite the dangers in doing so.

It's not a monumental idea, but it is somewhat liberating. I'm hesitant to agree with the 50-page rule, however... If I gave every book only 50 pages to grab me, I never would have given Jane Austen a shot. After 75 pages of scenery and setting development, I was about ready to toss both Emma and Pride & Prejudice aside. By page 100, though, it was getting good, and I'm glad I didn't give up. Going forward, then, I think I may have to enforce a "Rule of 100" for the books I choose to read. Kazuo Ishiguro, look out; I'm keeping my eye on you.


------------------------------------
* Incidentally, Nabbs, if you never actually finished that one but just quietly removed it from your sidebar, then I do heartily apologize for bringing it to anyone's attention yet again.

** GG, was it you? If so, I feel the need to mention that even though I didn't love this book, I still think you're witty and fabulous and I'm in no way distrusting your future recommendations just because I didn't entirely agree with you on this one. And I still totally want to drink a bottle of wine (or two) with you while we talk about books and anything else on our minds. If it wasn't you, then, um, never mind. (Except for that part about the wine. That part's still valid.)