INKDEATH Update

After writing my last post, I finally hit my stride with Inkdeath and started flying through the pages (still at a slower pace than I would typically read but faster than I had been reading). By the time I got near the end of the book, I was unable to put it down and carried it around with me everywhere I went so I could snag any free seconds I had and immerse myself back into the book.

My prediction was correct: The Inkheart trilogy still lives with me even after I finished the book, and somewhere down deep inside me, I'm hoping Cornelia Funke will write another trilogy, one devoted Meggie's little brother. In the meantime, though, I'm dreaming of the Inkworld and reveling in its ability to make me slightly uneasy because it inspires me to think of things I should be doing.

Slow Reads can be Good Reads, Too

I am finally reading the conclusion to the Inkheart trilogy by Cornelia Funke: Inkdeath. I bought all three books two years ago and read the first one (Inkheart) right away. Even though I enjoyed the book, it was a long read, and I didn't immediately start the second book. When I finally did start the second book (Inkspell), it took me nearly a year of reading it on-again-off-again to complete it. One of my friends had told me she'd had difficulties reading the second one but that the third one was worth it, so I kept going. She was right. I am immensely enjoying Inkdeath, yet I am finding that reading the book is slow going for me.

I am normally a pretty fast reader, and when I get pulled into a book, I often find that when I am released (usually because the phone rings or I realize I haven't eaten for a while or someone interrupts my spell), I will have read a hundred pages in what feels like no time at all. With the Inkheart books, though, it's more like I'll make it through twenty pages instead of a hundred. On the surface, it didn't make much sense to me that it was taking so long to read the books--the books are written for young readers, so I'm not dealing with words I don't know or hard-to-read sentences or anything like that. These books are just slow reads for me.

Before I encountered good books that are slow reads, I probably would have guessed that not being able to read through any book at a normal pace is caused by lack of interest. That is not always the case (in fact, a lack of interest sometimes causes me to speed up just to try to get through the book). I am now finding that sometimes a book speaks to me at such a deep level that part of my energy is focused on digesting the deeper connection, leaving only a fraction of my mental space open for digesting the words I'm reading on the page.

I am infatuated with the world Funke created in her Inkheart books; based on its vivid descriptions, Inkworld is a fabulous place, and I want to feel the complex emotions Funke so painstakingly describes at every step of the story. I want to meet these characters--even the evil ones--because she has put so much thought into making each and every one of them a round character and not simply a flat, stock character who plays his destined role in the background.

And more than anything else, her books are making me want to write. Her words are sparking ideas in me that I had left dormant because my schedule has been rather filled lately. Her words are making me feel guilty for not doing what's on my to-do list. So yet another part of me is pulled away from focusing on the words on the page, pestering me about what I should be doing with my time.

Although I'm a couple hundred pages from finishing (Inkdeath is around 700 pages, so I'm still a good way through the book), I already know that when I close its covers, I'm going to love the series. Even now, I acknowledge that the second book didn't quite draw me in as much as the first one did or the last one is, but I can't say I don't like Inkspell. Maybe it didn't draw me in as much because it was like the second movie of the Lord of the Rings trilogy--I watched it because I needed the middle part of the story, but the second movie was so dependent on continuing what had already happened in the first movie and setting viewers up for the third movie that it didn't feel like a movie in its own rights. The second movie was my least favorite of the three. It felt like nothing happened because nothing was really begun or finished in its duration. I think maybe Inkspell was the same way for me. I can't like it the best because nothing was begun or finished in its duration.

Why mention the possibility of a good book being a slow read? Because I've found a new twist in my reading journey; I've found a new definition of 'joie de lire'. I used to associate good books with my hypnotic reading states--those periods of reading where I forget a world exists around me, and I end up reading an entire book in one or two sittings. And now I'm beginning to realize that not all good books do that to me. Some books, even those that could potentially end up on my 'top ten' book list, will not cause me to go into a reading stupor but instead will make me feel antsy with inspiration and provocation, making it nearly impossible to get through the book at my normal reading pace.

Have any good books caused you to slow down?

Helped by "The Help"

I've often thought that I need to be or do something more in life to matter.  I feel like being me isn't enough, but I'm not sure whose expectations I'm trying to live up to.  No one has ever explicitly said I need to do anything more than what I'm already doing, but sometimes I wish someone would tell me exactly what was expected of me so that I could feel like I'm working on fulfilling my purpose rather than wondering what that purpose is.

A couple months ago, I was perusing books on my Kindle, and Amazon suggested a list books for me based on my reading interests.  One of the books on the list was The Help by Kathryn Stockett.

I didn't immediately buy it because, at that particular time, I was trying to be thrifty by only getting the free (or nearly free) books.  Yet something about the book and its synopsis kept me going back to its Kindle page every day for three days.  So I downloaded a free sample, thinking, "What could it hurt?"  Two pages into my free sample, I bought the entire book.  Once I started reading, I couldn't stop.  Even when I didn't physically have the book in my hands, the book was still alive inside me because I thought about the story and its characters as if they were my dearest friends and I were a part of everything going on.  I wondered what the characters would do next, what I would say if they asked me for advice, what I would do if I were in their shoes...

I found ways to connect with the three main women in the book, Skeeter, Aibileen, and Minny, even though I shared little in common with them on the surface.  They were living in Mississippi in the 1960s; Aibileen and Minny were both black maids; Skeeter was a young white woman who had been raised by a black maid; they were all tired of the status quo; they became inspired by the Civil Rights Movement.  As someone who has never visited Mississippi, lived during the 60s, or had a maid or known anyone who had one, how is it that I could feel like I was a part of their story?

Part of that connection is due to Kathryn Stockett's amazing writing.  Her words provide dimension for the characters so that they can step off the pages and become living, breathing souls.  She writes the book in sections, writing the different sections through the eyes of one of the three main characters.  A couple of quotations to show off her writing style follow:

My face goes hot, my tongue twitchy.  I don't know what to say to her.  All I know is, I ain't saying it.  And I know she ain't saying what she want a say either and it's a strange thing happening here cause nobody saying nothing and we still managing to have us a conversation.

I always thought insanity would be a dark, bitter feeling, but it is drenching and delicious if you really roll around in it.

If the book were simply a well-written one, I would have liked the book but not become a part of it.  I would have relished the book as I read it but not chewed and digested each passage.  The book was more than a good book--it became one of my favorites before I had even finished it.  Skeeter, Aibileen, and Minnie inspired me because they were able to accomplish a quiet triumph by simply being themselves and doing what they did best right where they were.  Reading about their lives helped me realize that I can make a difference in the world--and serve a purpose--by not worrying so much about living up to expectations but rather turning inward and reflecting on what I do best.  And then doing that.

I will never be a politician who can fight injustices of the world by promoting better laws.  I will never be an ambassador to the UN.  I will never be a doctor who saves people's lives.  I will never be a multi-millionaire who can spend money financing expensive charitable deeds.  Skeeter, Aibileen, and Minnie taught me not to focus on those.  They taught me to focus instead on the other side of the proverbial coin: what I am.  I am a teacher in a position to inspire college students.  I am a writer with the desire to share my love of reading and words with those around me.  I am a woman of many relationships: daughter, sister, mother, wife, friend.  Those are the things that matter.

The book's message reminded me of Gilda Radner's autobiography, It's Always Something, which details her life in comedy and her fight with cancer.  Gilda writes, "What I've learned the hard way is that there's always something you can do.  It may not be an easy thing to do, but there is always something you can do."  The three ladies in The Help found the something they could do and, in turn, helped me to start searching for, acknowledging, and actually attempting the small somethings I can do without worrying about the things I can't do.

Happy reading, and happy searching for your somethings.