Moving On...

I don't think I was ambiguous when I discussed The Man Who Was Thursday last week. I readily admitted that it was slow and laborious reading. I marched on, however, hoping that the story would carry me through the antiquated language and the dry wit (I was never quite sure as to whether it was supposed to be funny or not).

I cannot tell you how many Amazon reviews I read, claiming this book was among the greatest ever written. Perhaps it is. Perhaps I am among the minority who just doesn't get it. After all, it is a terrific story in theory. It is the story of Gabriel Syme, the average joe, who stumbles into a position with the police to stop the dreaded anarchists in their plot to destroy government, and humanity along with it. Over the course of the book, he discovers that more than half of the counsel that he infiltrates is also among the police. As they remove their disguises, the reader can't help but be less and less surprised with each false nose or pretended limp.

I truly gave it my best shot. I read it faithfully over lunch breaks at work, before bed, and spent two hours reading it today as my children played Monopoly with my parents. At the end of the two hours, I realized that for the first time in my life I didn't care how it ended. I only wanted it to be over. I believe that this realization might have shocked me much more than it does you.

I have never in my life given up on either a book or a film for fear that it will get better and I will have missed it. (Full disclosure: part of my reasoning is also the slightly obsessive compulsive need to see a situation resolved.) I have muddled through John Bunyan's allegorical Pilgrim's Progress and sat through the entirety of The American staring George Clooney. I may have complained a lot, both during and afterward, but I never, ever quit.

Until today.

Mr. Syme and his cohorts will have to foil the anarchists without me. I must, for my own sanity, find another friend with whom to spend my time. Having said this, I have to say that I have, indeed, made a friend in the last few weeks. I haven't talked about her because I met her through a book I was required to read in a class I am presently taking. I only mention her now because I plan to take some of her advice, and I thought I might share it with you.


Donalyn Miller, teacher and author of The Book Whisperer, recommends that adults, and teachers in particular, should read children's books. I am going to take my children to the library with me tomorrow, and I plan to spend my time with them in the children's and young adult sections, rather than in looking for the usual mystery or historical novel to which I usually gravitate.

My son has recommended the Deltora Quest series, by Emily Rodda. He is currently reading Dragon's Nest, the first in Rodda's second Deltora series, Dragons of Deltora. My eldest daughter recommends anything by John Green, which I immediately reject. I rethink my position, though, knowing that this isn't what I would want for her to do. I want my children to keep an open mind about authors and genre. My younger daughter wants me to read a series by Nick Bruel entitled Bad Kitty. She says they're hilarious. I am put off by the title. My other son swears by a series called Bone, by Jeff Smith. They are graphic novels, to which I am not opposed, having read V for Vendetta my freshman year in college.  I suspect I will check out several different types of books by several different authors. I am excited to read books that have been recommended by my children, and that I in turn may one day recommend to my students.

I'll keep you posted.