Trick question. Writers are never writing. At most, we’re sitting with documents open, cold tea by our side, and Twitter open on our phones. But we also go through dry spells where even that is too much. Life becomes a void of reruns of The Office and we figure we should have majored in accounting. Not that this is about me or anything.
…I haven’t even been able to write creative non-fiction, these past few months. And that’s just putting the chaotic dumb-assery that is my life on paper.
What I am doing while not-writing has been reading. Not even that much. Mostly it’s been Netflix–my new thing is BBC Nature documentaries. David Attenborough is getting her through. Anyway, I’ve been a little all over the place, but here’s my quick and ill-thought-out reviews of the reading I’ve gotten done.
Eve’s Fall Reads 2k18 (and Her Half-Baked Opinions On Them)
- We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson
- Jackson is a QUEEN and this, her last novel, is my favorite of her stuff so far. No ghosts, no demons, just the best and creepiest narrator I’ve ever read. I’ll stan Merricat Blackwood forever and always. Twist is relatively predictable, but in that fun way where you feel cool for figuring it out. Tone is spooky, writing is gorgeous as always, and I finished it the day I bought it.
- A side note: The Haunting of Hill House is on Netflix, and it’s definitely worth a watch. Like most successful interpretations of literary works, it doesn’t try to transpose the novel tot he screen, instead paying homage but tweaking characters, mostly going a different direction with plot, and moving the setting to modern day.
- Jackson is a QUEEN and this, her last novel, is my favorite of her stuff so far. No ghosts, no demons, just the best and creepiest narrator I’ve ever read. I’ll stan Merricat Blackwood forever and always. Twist is relatively predictable, but in that fun way where you feel cool for figuring it out. Tone is spooky, writing is gorgeous as always, and I finished it the day I bought it.
- Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan
- Okay, okay, but I bought it at an airport so I could have something light and non-anxiety-inducing to read, and y’know what, it was fun? Obviously it’s not high art, but it was fun and made me want to be rich and living in luxury instead of crammed in the middle seat on a transatlantic flight. Made me realize stories without dragons that are just about people and families and romance and social lives don’t always bore me (unless they’re written by Austen. Ooh. Burn.) and I should stop being a baby about them.
- Beowulf
- Took me literally all summer to read, but glorious. So many Christian themes (which I resisted). Seamus Heaney is stellar, and I’m making my way into classics without kicking and screaming (too much). The Odyssey should really be next, but we’ll see.
I’m currently returning to my security blanket, which is Terry Pratchett. Of all the Discworld I’ve read, I literally never picked up the very first one, so right now I’m reading The Color of Magic. I’m intending on making this a winter where I study Gaeilge and read for pleasure, so expect lots more raving about pop scifi and horror. And potentially some linguistic rants so my roommates don’t have to listen to me talk about the roots of Irish to be verbs.
A final note: sometimes life is really fucking hard. Sometimes you need a medal for getting up in the morning and showering and eating a Nature Valley bar or whatever. Maybe you don’t read a lot. Maybe you don’t write at all. It’s good enough. All you have to do is keep breathing.
Eve Taft 