Chelsey Cosh's Blog: From Mind to Mouth - Posts Tagged "procrastination"
Making Up for Lost Time
June was a busy month. Not only did I have family over for my wedding, but -- hello! -- I got married. I had a wedding in two parts: an intimate ceremony and dinner with family, and then, a few weeks later, a reception with DJ and dinner for more family and friends. So, a busy bee I have been.
I tried to read, but nothing came to fruition. I did chip away at it, though, so as not to fall too far behind. I really tried to get back in stride for July.
This is what I managed to muster this month.
Book #22: A book set in your hometown
There's something to be said about this whole graphic novel thing. After reading Umbrella Academy a little over a month ago, I wanted to read another graphic novel. And considering how difficult it is to find a book actually set within the confines of the townlines where I reside, I knew I was going to have to be flexible.
So, with this prompt, I figured anything even in the vicinity of Toronto was close enough. I was a little shy about reading Margaret Atwood, considering that my high school literature teacher who would and could read just about anything absolutely despised Atwood. I do intend to read The Edible Woman , but not today. In lieu of that, I went for something unique: the story of a Japanese-Canadian attending an all-girls Catholic school. Going in, I knew nothing about Skim except that its reception was very positive. I also knew the authors were cousins: one wrote the story, the other illustrated.
Skim is about Kim Cameron, nicknamed Skim; she's a depressed, lonely, and confused teenage girl. Her "friend" Lisa is moody and exploitative and self-centered. Lisa gives meaning to the phrase, "Who needs enemies with friends like these?" Like I said, Skim attends an all-girls' Catholic school. There, the girls are catty and dismissive, especially the self-important Julie Peters and her lemming-like friends, all of which treat Skim cruelly or don't notice her at all. Isolated in their own little private-school sphere, these spoiled girls in their clique-y world bounce off each other, creating conflicts that need not exist or campaigning for causes they don't really care about, just for something to do. These are your stereotypical mean girls and very hypocritical ones at that; they preach kindness and compassion as they're sharpening their claws. We all know the type. (And if you don't, it was probably you.)
Not everyone gets to go to private school, like Skim does, but her story has a very universal quality. The experience Skim has seems very genuine, very true, as if either one or both of the authors went through this mill themselves. I know that, for many, that is how teenage life feels. In an effort to survive, Skim turns rather unsuccessfully to Wiccanism. She has no outlet. She writes in her diary. She is struggling to figure things out. She falls in love and makes what could have been a serious error -- a crime, in fact. However, in the end, Skim eliminates some of the darkness from her life and finds someone a little more like her -- not a lover, but a real friend. And I don't think this book is filled with any lessons or happy endings, but it doesn't have a sad ending either. If anything, there is a modicum of hope for Skim yet. And that's happy enough for me.
Book #23: A book about a road trip
Boy, did I take my sweet time reading this one.
I started reading this book at the beginning of June. Then, as aforementioned, my family visited from England for six weeks.
So, needless to say, I put down Paper Towns until July. It was trickier to get back into it with such a long break in between. I was about 100 pages in already and I wasn't keen on rereading them. It came back to me fairly quickly, but I had lost the mood I had back in June. The tone had changed, at first almost imperceptible, but once realized, still ineffable.
I can see why my sister calls this book her "least favourite John Green." It is by no means a bad book; please don't misconstrue my lower preference for it as a negative criticism for the writing. The thing is, the plot is largely lacking. It has all the makings of a mystery with no get-up-and-go to actually investigate. So much time is spent in the earlier chapters of this novel with an adolescent protagonist whining about life and obsessing about his missing sort-of-friend without straining himself too much to actually do much about it. It reminds me a lot of the rantings of Holden Caulfield. For that reason, you lose interest before the real action starts on page 243. That's right; the road trip doesn't start until page 243. The book barely scratches the 300-page mark. After that, we get an hour-by-hour rundown of travelling up the East Coast in a minivan. And I won't go any further because, if you do happen to want to read it, I don't want to spoil it for you.
Yes, I saw the film first again, but, unlike with The Fault in Our Stars , that experience had no effect on my enjoyment of this book. Paper Towns is not a teenage fairy tale. It is a journey, both literal and metaphorical, about impressions, expectations, and the breaking of those illusions by truly knowing a person. People are windows, in essence, but we cloud them up and use them as mirrors instead. Ultimately, this novel teaches us a lesson in empathy, realizing that everyone has emotions and is struggling with something and that people live their lives not to feed into some caricature painted by outsiders but to fulfill the needs of one's self and loved ones.
So, while it may be impossible to walk in someone else's shoes, there is something noble in the attempt. And while it's not my favourite John Green novel because of the ambling pace combined with the hecticness of the constantly shifting narrative, I still appreciate the hamfisted delivery of its message.
Book #24: A dystopian novel
I get that Fahrenheit 451 is a cautionary tale about censorship. Oh, boy, I couldn't not get that; without an ounce of subtlety, Bradbury whacks you over the head repeatedly with that message. I also understand that we as readers should empathize with the plight of poor Guy Montag whose eyes have just been opened and whose mind has been blown by the capacity to think freely. But I don't pity him at all; frankly, I don't care for the guy. With its writing style that, to me, is too reminiscent of the ramblings of a madman rife with paranoia (Montag, not Bradbury), I found it incredibly hard to get absorbed in this tale of a dystopian future in which the population indulges in a hedonistic lifestyle prescribed by conformity-loving social authorities that tell you what to think and constantly placate you into feeling good by never really feeling anything at all.
It's an interesting concept; it’s what drew me in in the first place. And the idea of firefighters burning books is genius because Bradbury automatically has his audience, readers, on his side without much need for persuasion.
However, I cannot get behind the execution of this story. Everything seems so drawn out and tedious. Instead of cheering Montag on, I grew to hate him, not because of his actions but because of his babble. Regardless, Fahrenheit 451 sparked the ideas for so many other stories, so for that alone, I am grateful.
I still have a few books that I took a huge chunk out of this month, but those will have to wait because, with a chapter or two left to read, they are still pending completion. We won't even touch on the various books that didn't fit this challenge that I read anyway. I read a book on cognitive behavioral therapy (because I'm boring); Neil Gaiman's book of speeches, articles, and other non-fiction writings, The View from the Cheap Seats ; my husband's favourite Goosebumps volume, The Beast from the East , which is evidence that I am regressing into an eleven-year-old child; and a fairly dense Chuck Klosterman anthology (which included a handful of articles that I read years ago when I borrowed my friend's copy of Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs in high school.
So, yeah, I can't be contained to the list. I should stop fighting it.
Still, I managed to get through a fair share, enough to make it less horrific that I didn't read at all in June.
Next month, I hope to conquer what I have still in progress, which includes a book from Oprah's book club, a book that's set in summertime, a National Book Award winner, and a book set in Europe, as well as tackling a book at least 100 years older than me and a book with a protagonist who has my occupation.
Until then, happy reading!
I tried to read, but nothing came to fruition. I did chip away at it, though, so as not to fall too far behind. I really tried to get back in stride for July.
This is what I managed to muster this month.
Book #22: A book set in your hometown
There's something to be said about this whole graphic novel thing. After reading Umbrella Academy a little over a month ago, I wanted to read another graphic novel. And considering how difficult it is to find a book actually set within the confines of the townlines where I reside, I knew I was going to have to be flexible.
So, with this prompt, I figured anything even in the vicinity of Toronto was close enough. I was a little shy about reading Margaret Atwood, considering that my high school literature teacher who would and could read just about anything absolutely despised Atwood. I do intend to read The Edible Woman , but not today. In lieu of that, I went for something unique: the story of a Japanese-Canadian attending an all-girls Catholic school. Going in, I knew nothing about Skim except that its reception was very positive. I also knew the authors were cousins: one wrote the story, the other illustrated.
Skim is about Kim Cameron, nicknamed Skim; she's a depressed, lonely, and confused teenage girl. Her "friend" Lisa is moody and exploitative and self-centered. Lisa gives meaning to the phrase, "Who needs enemies with friends like these?" Like I said, Skim attends an all-girls' Catholic school. There, the girls are catty and dismissive, especially the self-important Julie Peters and her lemming-like friends, all of which treat Skim cruelly or don't notice her at all. Isolated in their own little private-school sphere, these spoiled girls in their clique-y world bounce off each other, creating conflicts that need not exist or campaigning for causes they don't really care about, just for something to do. These are your stereotypical mean girls and very hypocritical ones at that; they preach kindness and compassion as they're sharpening their claws. We all know the type. (And if you don't, it was probably you.)
Not everyone gets to go to private school, like Skim does, but her story has a very universal quality. The experience Skim has seems very genuine, very true, as if either one or both of the authors went through this mill themselves. I know that, for many, that is how teenage life feels. In an effort to survive, Skim turns rather unsuccessfully to Wiccanism. She has no outlet. She writes in her diary. She is struggling to figure things out. She falls in love and makes what could have been a serious error -- a crime, in fact. However, in the end, Skim eliminates some of the darkness from her life and finds someone a little more like her -- not a lover, but a real friend. And I don't think this book is filled with any lessons or happy endings, but it doesn't have a sad ending either. If anything, there is a modicum of hope for Skim yet. And that's happy enough for me.
Book #23: A book about a road trip
Boy, did I take my sweet time reading this one.
I started reading this book at the beginning of June. Then, as aforementioned, my family visited from England for six weeks.
So, needless to say, I put down Paper Towns until July. It was trickier to get back into it with such a long break in between. I was about 100 pages in already and I wasn't keen on rereading them. It came back to me fairly quickly, but I had lost the mood I had back in June. The tone had changed, at first almost imperceptible, but once realized, still ineffable.
I can see why my sister calls this book her "least favourite John Green." It is by no means a bad book; please don't misconstrue my lower preference for it as a negative criticism for the writing. The thing is, the plot is largely lacking. It has all the makings of a mystery with no get-up-and-go to actually investigate. So much time is spent in the earlier chapters of this novel with an adolescent protagonist whining about life and obsessing about his missing sort-of-friend without straining himself too much to actually do much about it. It reminds me a lot of the rantings of Holden Caulfield. For that reason, you lose interest before the real action starts on page 243. That's right; the road trip doesn't start until page 243. The book barely scratches the 300-page mark. After that, we get an hour-by-hour rundown of travelling up the East Coast in a minivan. And I won't go any further because, if you do happen to want to read it, I don't want to spoil it for you.
Yes, I saw the film first again, but, unlike with The Fault in Our Stars , that experience had no effect on my enjoyment of this book. Paper Towns is not a teenage fairy tale. It is a journey, both literal and metaphorical, about impressions, expectations, and the breaking of those illusions by truly knowing a person. People are windows, in essence, but we cloud them up and use them as mirrors instead. Ultimately, this novel teaches us a lesson in empathy, realizing that everyone has emotions and is struggling with something and that people live their lives not to feed into some caricature painted by outsiders but to fulfill the needs of one's self and loved ones.
So, while it may be impossible to walk in someone else's shoes, there is something noble in the attempt. And while it's not my favourite John Green novel because of the ambling pace combined with the hecticness of the constantly shifting narrative, I still appreciate the hamfisted delivery of its message.
Book #24: A dystopian novel
I get that Fahrenheit 451 is a cautionary tale about censorship. Oh, boy, I couldn't not get that; without an ounce of subtlety, Bradbury whacks you over the head repeatedly with that message. I also understand that we as readers should empathize with the plight of poor Guy Montag whose eyes have just been opened and whose mind has been blown by the capacity to think freely. But I don't pity him at all; frankly, I don't care for the guy. With its writing style that, to me, is too reminiscent of the ramblings of a madman rife with paranoia (Montag, not Bradbury), I found it incredibly hard to get absorbed in this tale of a dystopian future in which the population indulges in a hedonistic lifestyle prescribed by conformity-loving social authorities that tell you what to think and constantly placate you into feeling good by never really feeling anything at all.
It's an interesting concept; it’s what drew me in in the first place. And the idea of firefighters burning books is genius because Bradbury automatically has his audience, readers, on his side without much need for persuasion.
However, I cannot get behind the execution of this story. Everything seems so drawn out and tedious. Instead of cheering Montag on, I grew to hate him, not because of his actions but because of his babble. Regardless, Fahrenheit 451 sparked the ideas for so many other stories, so for that alone, I am grateful.
I still have a few books that I took a huge chunk out of this month, but those will have to wait because, with a chapter or two left to read, they are still pending completion. We won't even touch on the various books that didn't fit this challenge that I read anyway. I read a book on cognitive behavioral therapy (because I'm boring); Neil Gaiman's book of speeches, articles, and other non-fiction writings, The View from the Cheap Seats ; my husband's favourite Goosebumps volume, The Beast from the East , which is evidence that I am regressing into an eleven-year-old child; and a fairly dense Chuck Klosterman anthology (which included a handful of articles that I read years ago when I borrowed my friend's copy of Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs in high school.
So, yeah, I can't be contained to the list. I should stop fighting it.
Still, I managed to get through a fair share, enough to make it less horrific that I didn't read at all in June.
Next month, I hope to conquer what I have still in progress, which includes a book from Oprah's book club, a book that's set in summertime, a National Book Award winner, and a book set in Europe, as well as tackling a book at least 100 years older than me and a book with a protagonist who has my occupation.
Until then, happy reading!
