Digging deeper:

When I was considering my undergraduate degree and excitedly discussing it with whoever would listen, an older friend said to me, “They say if you want to hate literature, you should study it.” Oh.

This friend is someone I generally consider to be pretty wise, but in this case he turned out to be wrong. Here I am, almost at the end of nearly five years of study, and I love literature more than ever.

I have certainly had to read stuff I didn’t care for. I’d say about 50% of the texts set for my classes were ones I wouldn’t naturally pick up for myself, mostly because it seems that many tertiary texts highlight the bleak and the gritty. Yes, I have had to wade through postmodern criticism that desperately seeks out phallic symbols in the most unlikely of places and brings everything -- yes, everything -- back to Oedipus. I have read stories that gave far too much information and stories that gave far too little. I’ve been called upon to dig out meaning I really didn’t even think was there. I do have a few choice things to say about certain bits of convoluted postmodern literary theory but I can honestly affirm that none of it has made me hate literature. Even when I hated where a novel went, I couldn’t hate the novel itself. There is always some spark of wonder and I think that studying a piece of writing will draw that out -- for me, at least. And as for the stuff I already loved and had to revisit? Plumbing the depths of these works didn’t drain them of all joy. Rather, I got to see nuanced sides of the works that I’d never considered, delicate layers of meaning and artistry that I didn’t even know were there. Far from making me hate literature, studying it only enhanced my appreciation for it.

It’s not just books that work like this. I remember being set a very complex Bach prelude and fugue back when I was studying piano. The movement of the voices -- four of them, spread amongst two hands -- was immensely complex and interwoven, and I pretty much despaired of playing it with any fluidity. I groaned as I picked apart the work note by note, dragging and fumbling my way through. But as I gained a little proficiency (it was never wholly easy for me, let me be clear), I actually began to love it. Of course, the work did not change, but I did. I got to know it better, and in knowing it better I was more able to see its beauty. More recently, I see this happening for one of my music students. “I hate this!” she moaned, staring at a new song which included some unfamiliar techniques. “This is the worst song I’ve ever had to play!” I tried to tell her that maybe it would become her favourite; that’s how it often worked for me. She was frankly disbelieving. Two weeks later, with her fingers moving deftly over the notes, she confessed that it was now her favourite. And because she is eleven years old and entirely unselfconscious, there was no sheepishness. She just grinned widely.

I wonder if the process is the same for learning to love people? In my teens and early twenties, I craved that instant connection with new friends, the undefinable “click,” so difficult to explain but so easy to recognise when it’s present. It’s the sort of feeling that has you laughing with someone and showing them your truest self even though you’ve only known them an hour -- because something about them, or the way you and they are, together, says it’s okay, it’ll work. I used to think friendship needed those click moments, but now I’m not so sure. There are friendships in my life that started off very slowly, awkwardly, brokenly. There are people I know with whom I had to make a concerted effort to reveal parts of my heart, taking a risk and putting it out there in a clunky fashion because it was never going to happen organically. Some of these people are my dearest friends now. With some, I’m still my quietest self, my most hesitant self, but they are true friends and real friends because I have known them long enough to see the intricate layers of the notes and the melodies that criss-cross and compete but somehow come together to make something amazing.

Perhaps studying something will make you hate it. But I don’t think so. I think that if you really want to learn to love something, looking a little closer is the best way to do it.

'Genesis', by Bernard Beckett; or: go read this book I should not have liked.

Bernard Beckett's Genesis is a novel that I really should have hated.

For starters, it's a science fiction story set in a dystopian setting, and while I am into the dystopian genre, I'm really not big on sci fi literature. Too much description about how things work or the systems that sustain everything. I get impatient. Show me characters, man! Then there's also the fact that the entire novel covers just a four-hour session in one day of the protagonist's life (which sounds a little boring, when you put it like that) and there are abundant flashbacks, which I loathe because I am an impatient reader and flashbacks tend to halt a narrative in its tracks. Finallly, there's a detached, almost clinical feel to the text. The story of main character Anaximander's entrance exam reads like a court procedural or an official transcript. There are few speech designations or dialogue tags, which should render the text drab and emotionless. But this is far from the case.

In spite of all these perceived 'flaws' which would normally put me off a book, Genesis is a powerful narrative that is both compelling and suspenseful. The back-and-forth dialogue between Anaximander and her examiners hearkens to Greco-Roman conceptions of debate and rhetoric, with the form of the text itself reinforcing the ideas, which can be read as a simple story or in multiple layers of meaning and even allegory. On one level, there is the suspense of whether Anax will convince the examiners she has earnt a place in the Academy; at another level, the rising tension and the debate indicate that there is a deeper story at work, woven amongst discussions couched in philosophy and logic.

What is not said -- and what is not even observed to have been left unsaid -- becomes incredibly important. Sarah Giffney (2011, p.64) described it as a 'metafictional critique of readership,' which is true, but it's also just a fantastic story with some solid surprises. I won't say anymore because I think this book works best with little foreknowledge of the text, but if you do read Genesis, please chat with me about it!

Top 10 authors I'd put on my auto-buy list:

Just about every week, I intend to take part in The Broke & the Bookish's Top 10 Tuesday feature. And quite as regularly, I spend so much time explaining my choices that I completely explain my way out of ever sharing the finished post. Not so this week. There will be caveats -- it seems like it's not in me to completely give myself over to something without at least a small percentage of reserve -- but I'm determined to post my list all the same.

Perhaps the most obvious disclaimer I'd make about a list of authors on an auto-buy list is that I don't automatically buy anything. For starters, there's the money thing; I work part-time and I'm a student -- I have to think about what I purchase. And while I definitely spend a disproportionate amount of my earnings on books, I still have to think about it. Then there's the matter of only wanting to own books that I'll read several times or loan out to lots of people, and my favourite authors don't always write my favourite books, weird as that may seem. Finally, there's this fear of my books banding together like some sort of sentient paper blob, rising up in the night, and swallowing me whole -- all because of the sheer power of their combined volume. So yes, I don't just buy whatever books I want.

Finally, I stuck to children's and YA fiction because, honestly, one has to draw the line somewhere. Enough minutiae. Here, in alphabetical order, are the authors whose books I leap to investigate as soon as they appear:

Paolo Bacigalupi -- this is a new discovery for me, and how can his books be on my list when I've only read two? Yes, it's positively shameful. But it doesn't matter because I am intrigued by Bacigalupi's wordsmithing, and his excellent ability to build compelling worlds in dystopian and science fiction settings. I want to read more!

Suzanne Collins -- if you've read my blog for a while, you know I loved The Hunger Games trilogy, and while they weren't classics in terms of literary richness, they are absolute classics for me in the realm of character development, as well as a mesmerising story arc I just couldn't look away from. Collins' The Underland Chronicles are, I think, better written than The Hunger Games, but they don't have the exposure the Games has. Based on both these series, I am super keen to see what Suzanne Collins comes up with next. There had better be a next, Ms. Collins!

Sarah Dessen -- I randomly picked up a Sarah Dessen book, What Happened to Goodbye, in a little indie bookstore at my sister's house, when I was flying home after the birth of her second little boy. It was a completely spontaneous purchase, something light and happy for the plane ride. I couldn't believe how delightful it was, and over a few months, I read six of her books in quick succession. It was probably overkill, but I loved her 'voice', especially in the teen lit genre that can so often descend into mere fluff. I would be reticent about wholesale recommending her stories, as some of her characters have less-than-savoury lifestyle choices, but I am still very keen to see what Sarah Dessen writes next (a new book is out soon!).

John Green -- ah, John Green! How can I explain my feelings about this guy's work? Green is an incredibly gifted author whose rare voice will stand out as one of the greats of this generation, I believe. He is also a brilliant, kind, thoughtful, and genuine person who is engaged in really healthy, wise discussions about life, culture, faith, and politics. His characters are intriguing, and he has the power to draw out really vivid responses to his work without devolving into sappiness or tacky pathos. However, some of the actions of his (frequently sexually uninhibited) characters -- as well as their vocabulary -- are not ones I would choose as role models for my teen friends. I recognise this sounds incredibly naive and cloistered, since one of the ways we learn is by watching others live their lives. But this is my hesitation with Green's books, and I would not be honest if I didn't share it.

Rosanne Hawke -- Rosanne Hawke is one whose books I do automatically pick up whenever I see them. I was privileged to study under her during my bachelor degree, and was delighted to get to learn from someone who occupies a respected and unique place in Australian young adult literature. Rosanne's work is one that definitely deserves the title of 'literature' -- rich, high quality writing that totally avoids the abyss of trend-focussed YA cliches. Much of Rosanne's work is issues-focussed and delves into the real challenges of young adult life, but it does so in a healthy, thoughtful, discreet way.

Odo Hirsch -- Odo Hirsch! Odo Hirsch! Lovely, happy, quirky characters! Beautiful word choices! Delightful worlds and adventures!

Patrick Ness -- Patrick Ness gets the award as The Writer Most Likely To Take Out Your Soul, Wring It Dry, Then Try To Stick It Back Into The Cavity Inside You. It's hard to express just how this guy manages to do it, but his voice and language are profoundly unique, and the characterisation impeccable. I can't describe what Patrick Ness's books do to me, so I'll just give up trying.

Veronica Roth -- I want to hate Veronica Roth because she is younger than me and she has already written the first two books of a bestselling trilogy which is being turned into a movie. But I can't hate her. I can only be happy that she has achieved this immense success -- and that she thanks God in the acknowledgements of her books. You go, girl.

Lemony Snicket -- Lemony Snicket, aka Daniel Handler, is a man who is obviously in love with words. He's probably best known for his Series of Unfortunate Events books, but his dry, dark sarcasm, his slightly morbid humour, and his delirious and unashamed love of the English language come through in all his stories. It's good stuff.
 
Jerry Spinelli -- I love Jerry Spinelli's characters because they are rare and beautiful. Spinelli celebrates words and he celebrates special people, and he does both extremely well (the Newbery society or association or whoever they are agrees with me). My favourite thing about Spinelli is his ability to bring the beauty of the outsider into the light. His books are just beautiful.

Bonus round! Top 10 authors who'd be on my auto-buy list if they were still alive and therefore still producing new work:

Louisa May Alcott
Amy Carmichael
Mary Grant Bruce
Charles Dickens
CS Lewis
LM Montgomery
Ellis Peters
Rosemary Sutcliff
Elizabeth George Speare
Ethel Turner

Who's on your list?

Pages under the sun:

When I was a little girl, I could stick myself away in a corner and read for hours on end, and it was totally the life. Then came high school and work and the real world and, while I still loved reading, I kind of forgot how to actually do that for more than fifteen minutes at a time. Reading became something I could do in tiny moments or for five minutes at the end of the day before falling asleep.

When I returned to studying, I was miffed to discover I had completely lost the ability to read for any real period of time without dozing off. Tragic! So part of my tertiary education has been a re-education in reading, and how to keep it up for longer than ten minutes. Believe it or not, I'm still learning. But when I have a massive stack of pages to get through, one of my favourite things is to take my quilt and book pile out to the grassy patch in front of my little verandah. I get to soak up some vitamin D while soaking up the words, and it helps me stay awake! Plus, the view is just gorgeous.

Where's your favourite place to read?

This post has been brought to you by YLCF's Favourite Place to Read Link-Up. Feel free to join the fun!