Wild Days

A few weeks ago, I was reading Graeme Macrae Burnet's Case Study. I started it because I had this idea, an image, of it being an intoxicating and absurd and complicated novel. About halfway in, though, I just could not find it in myself to carry on. I kept telling myself life was too short to be reading something I don't enjoy and yet continue to, just to prove I can. I'd just be adding to an already teetering stack of "Did-Not-Finish's" anyway. Notable mentions of this stack, by the way, are The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue, Dune (although I did enjoy the movies) and a few Bukowski's I bought on a whim. I wish I could explain why I didn't much feel particularly drawn to any of these books. Mostly it felt like wading through muck, especially with Addie LaRue. This business with the unfinished books and the kind of reader I think it makes me has long been a sore spot rife with internal contention, but I'm slowly learning not to let it bother me much. 

Anyway, after what seemed to be endless hours of trying to enjoy Case Study, my reading life took a rather unexpected turn, and ever since, I've been reading fantasy novels like my life depends on it! It occurred to me to pick up A Court of Thorns and Roses, which honestly, to my dismay, felt like jumping onto a ridiculous bookstagram bandwagon at first. But I ended up devouring it within a matter of a couple days, caught unawares by how much I needed to know "what happens next". I have to admit, it had been a hot minute since I had  read like that. I counted the hours at work before I could come home to ancient kingdoms and magical creatures. I felt the familiar surge of euphoria that comes with diving headfirst into a world other than the my own. I felt pang after pang of the longing to read more, and the wild joy of getting to. 

Reading like this is such an experience! A few times before, I have tried listening to playlists compiled for specific books, with vibes resonating with the themes of the book, and there was a song I kept listening to on repeat, all those days of reading ACOTAR. A small section of it in particular, a melody that etched itself into my brain and which I kept close to me. There was something about that melody that I loved, that got amplified by the feelings of the characters in the books that I was feeling in turn. I felt myself thinking every so often "this scene sounds like this melody".  Sometimes this made me stop in my tracks - was I losing my mind over a silly little fantasy? But oh well. Now I've picked up the Empyrean series, and live among dragons and dragon riders, wyverns and dark wielders. I can't help but feel smitten, but again, no complaints there. 

But this 'wildness' that I felt, I realised, was me becoming the main character -- less of the story of the books, and more of my own life. The feeling that overtook me then was akin to the one I first felt when, as a girl newly introduced to fantasy, I borrowed from the library and from all my friends, and immersed myself in reading. 

I was recently listening to James Thayer's series on learning to write, and he talks about how a good book pulls you into something larger than life, something that is rooted in, yet distinct from everyday realities. He calls it the 'razzle dazzle'. This simple but mysterious element in a book which elevates how we look at and feel about our own lives is what makes it good. I spent a long time thinking about that. And it's probably because of this that I love who I am when I'm poring over a book. I'm happiest when I'm talking to my friends about the books we love, the characters we hate, and the scenes we feel awed by. 

It's one of the big magics of life, this 'razzle dazzle'.