Infinite Summer – Week 9

I feel like I’m a billion pages behind.  I got sick this week and spent my days curled up on the couch watching TNT’s endless encore presentations of We Are Marshall, plus a bunch of bad ’90s movies on Netflix.

Also? I’m hitting that wall again.  When I started, I was really into this and at times way ahead of the schedule.  Then I got behind.  Then I got really behind.

Now, whenever a new IS entry pops up on my Google Reader, I’m scared to look because I don’t want to read any spoilers.  Imagine my relief when John Green’s Why I’m Behind article popped up.  Finally, I could join the community again.

Except: I’m not behind because I’m savoring the moments.  I can’t really put my finger on why I’m behind, especially since there is a stack of books that I really want to read right now (I hate reading more than 1 book at a time).  I can easily read 1,079 pages in a little over a week—maybe even less—if I put my mind to it.  It’s not that I don’t have time; all I have is time as of late.  It’s not the vocabulary that slows me down; I’ve ready my share of Rick Moody.  No real plot to follow?  No problem.  The number of characters I have to juggle doesn’t phase me, nor does the non-linear style of writing.  Flipping to the end notes does annoy me somewhat, but not always, and certainly not enough to put me off the book.

There are moments where I’m absolutely riveted—like the part where the woman at the AA tells her tale of giving birth to the faceless, deformed husk of a baby, then walks around with said decaying fetus in complete Denial until the stench of the bloated corpse is what leads CPS to her.  Or anything having to do with Mario.  And Hal.  I like Hal.  Even Joelle–whom I now have little patience for–had a riveting story.  Looking into the face of her vegetative sister right after she was raped by their father?  There have been few times in the book so far when I’ve been that engaged in the reading.  (Actually, that entire AA chapter was pretty freaking awesome.)

But then there’s crap like the Eschaton game.  That? That was a painful read.  I really hope that was the last of the Eschaton in this book.  I hit these “dead zones” in the book and then have to work up the energy to read, then I hit the truly fantastic moments that make me want to zoom through another chapter, only to be let down by another dead zone.  It’s a pain in the ass.

For me, personally, this is not a terribly difficult book.  I double majored in English and Philosophy in undergrad, so I’m actually really comfortable with reading shit that does not make any sense.  IJ is a bit jarring when you first start reading, but once you get the feel of it, it smooths out.  So seriously?  Why can’t I just read this thing already?

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About Melissa

I love donuts. Chocolate iced, hold the sprinkles.
This entry was posted in art & literature, infinite summer, life and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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