Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Escape
There's something soothing about the world created in books, something comforting about the reality we inhabit while we read. Coming out of one of my recent reads, I found myself quite upset that my interlude with that other world was over. I know, I know, pick up another book and you're back in that other world almost immediately. But that's the thing, isn't it? Why the eagerness to constantly enter that other world? That other world is full of demons, monsters, horrible people and horrible situations, just like this one. That other world is full of funny situations, quirky people and brilliant inventions, just like this one. Reading is not really any kind if escape. It's more a suspension of present, a brief period of standing still, a much-loved and welcomed moment of peace. It's not what you're reading that matters, it's the act of reading that does.
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4 comments:
I personally think that your love for reading comes from being incredibly nosy, and curious into others peoples lives and events. Therefore to read a book satifies your curiousity, without actually having to be openly nosy. If that makes any sense....
I'm not nosy! Curious, interested, observant. But I'm not nosy...
Thing with the alternative "reality" of literature is that you have the option of closing the book and never open it again if you don't like the "reality" in it. Whereas you can't close of real reality.
That's my Jungian analysis; you don't want to hear the Freudian riff.
But even if you close the book, for one brief moment you were in another reality and it stays with you when you come back to this reality. So this reality is altered because for one blessed moment you got away. So really, your reality is always changing, and escaping is more a matter of change. I think I may have just gone back on my own argument.
Does your Freudian analysis involve bookmarks as phallic symbols? Cause otherwise I'm not listening...
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