Labor Day
I did something last night that I haven’t done in…
oh, I can’t even remember the last time I did something like this!
[Certainly it was B.K. (before kids) and was probably as long ago as high school or even middle school.]
I read for almost six hours straight.
I wish I could say I read an entire book from cover to cover – I did finish the book I was reading – but the truth of the matter is that I started on like page 150 (which had taken me probably four weeks of pre-bedtime reading to get to) and then read to the end, which was over 500 pages.
The book wasn’t even really all that great. Enough to hold my attention. I kept expecting it to get better. And then I got to the point where I was determined to finish the damned book once and for all so I could move on to another one. NOT that I always feel compelled to read every book I start. Because I don’t. This was a second novel by an author whose first book won the National Book Award a few years ago. I had really liked that first book, although, to be perfectly honest, the book had three parts and Part One was far superior and more well-written than the latter two parts. I found out later, and with little surprise, that the author had written Part One as a novella and then been told: “Great! Turn it into a book.”
Which she had. By adding two more parts. The whole was all well and good, but the first part really shone. In my mind, anyway.
The author writes very character-driven stories, which I like. And you feel like you get to know the crew of characters quite well as you go along. The second book actually had a character from the first book in it. But he was not one of the major-major characters.
It annoyed me at first that 9/11 appeared in the book. I am not sure why. Maybe because we are coming up on the five year anniversary, and it is not something I like to think about a lot of the time. It makes me wonder if people were annoyed in the mid to late forties when Pearl Harbor figured in the plot of a work of fiction.
A lot of the book was set in NYC, so 9/11 affected most of the main characters in a variety of ways. None of the main characters were in the Twin Towers or were firemen/policemen, etc, but some characters’ whereabouts were unknown to friends and family for a period of time. It was interesting to read the takes/impressions/feelings/experiences of people in the city who were not directly affected by the two planes flying into the World Trade Center. I thought that gave a different angle/twist to the whole scenario, and one I haven’t heard/read much about before.
It made me remember watching the whole series of events transpire on TV and the subsequent feelings of shock and fear and disbelief that I experienced. I was all the way up in Alaska at the time. Even up there, people were frightened. Because they stopped all air traffic and closed down the gates to the Army base where we lived and there was a general feeling of fear and uneasiness and a belief that the terrorists could strike… anywhere. So, to have actually been in New York at the time. Wow.
By the end of the book, I felt like I had gotten to know most of the characters quite well. Some I got to know better than others, and sometimes I got to know characters I didn’t think I would get to know that well better than the ones I first thought I would. Some of the characters I really didn’t care so much for. And some of them grew irritating and I switched allegiances or sympathy. The book ended up all too warm and happy and cozy for my tastes. And too unrealistic. Kind of like a Lifetime channel movie. Life just isn’t that tidy.
Which brings us back to… messy.
I am not sure why I felt compelled to read for five and a half hours. I think because I could. And in normal life, I can’t. I NEVER have five and a half hours to do anything I want to do. I had also gotten to the point where I was driven to finish the book. I didn’t have to get up early the next morning or go to work, as it was to be Labor Day. So, I could afford to stay up until 2 am reading.
I got in bed at 8:30 pm. I kid you not. That in itself is unheard of. I told myself I was going to read for at least an hour. Maybe even two. A special treat. Woohoo!
Living on the wild side.
My kids were busy doing their own things, so they weren’t demanding anything of me or my time. Although both did come in and out of my room several times to use the computer, ask me questions, tell me something, give me a hug, ask for something else, use the phone, tell me about a video game, look up something else on the computer, crawl in bed next to me and ask for another hug, and tell me they were going to bed.
I absorbed, or embraced, the interruptions as they weren’t really interruptions. Not like I had to get out of bed and go pick someone up from somewhere at some particular time. Which is what I normally have to do. Several times over.
It was just a long stretch of… READING.
And I didn’t even fall asleep!
That in itself is a miracle.
Normally, I like to read before bed. These days that means I will crawl into bed, open up my book with good intentions, and then fall asleep in five to ten minutes. Because it is so late, and I am so freaking exhausted. Hence, the reason why I was only on page 150 after about four weeks of reading the same book. And couldn’t quite remember all that I had “read” or even who all the characters were.
It was a total luxury to be able to read a book for hours on end. And be able to follow the thread of the story and get to know the characters. And come to like some and dislike others and change allegiances several times over.
It was nice to know that for once I wouldn’t have to get up early. I wouldn’t even have to set an alarm! For once, I wouldn’t have to get my kids off to school or some sport or activity and me off to work. Nobody in the house had to get up early. And there was nothing in particular I – or any of us -- HAD to do the next day. I wasn’t worried about how I was going to fit everything in or make sure I got someone to this place at this time and someone else to this other place at this other time and then pick them all up again at a whole variety of times, some of which might – or probably would -- overlap. And which frequently made me wish, quite earnestly, that I was Elizabeth Montgomery in Bewitched and all I had to do was wiggle my nose and I could be wherever I needed or wanted to be at any given time.
So, I am thankful for Labor Day and for a day off. Period. Last year I had to work on Labor Day. My kids were off school, of course, and I felt guilty all day long at work. When I got home, I hurried to make a picnic and fit in some traditional Labor Day/end of summer celebrations. Like… making s’mores.
This year: we all got to sleep in, and then we went on a long bike ride, threw the football around, raked some early leaves, and had a cook-out and picnic. End of summer rituals.
Day off from school.
Day off from work.
It was heavenly.
Labor Day.
oh, I can’t even remember the last time I did something like this!
[Certainly it was B.K. (before kids) and was probably as long ago as high school or even middle school.]
I read for almost six hours straight.
I wish I could say I read an entire book from cover to cover – I did finish the book I was reading – but the truth of the matter is that I started on like page 150 (which had taken me probably four weeks of pre-bedtime reading to get to) and then read to the end, which was over 500 pages.
The book wasn’t even really all that great. Enough to hold my attention. I kept expecting it to get better. And then I got to the point where I was determined to finish the damned book once and for all so I could move on to another one. NOT that I always feel compelled to read every book I start. Because I don’t. This was a second novel by an author whose first book won the National Book Award a few years ago. I had really liked that first book, although, to be perfectly honest, the book had three parts and Part One was far superior and more well-written than the latter two parts. I found out later, and with little surprise, that the author had written Part One as a novella and then been told: “Great! Turn it into a book.”
Which she had. By adding two more parts. The whole was all well and good, but the first part really shone. In my mind, anyway.
The author writes very character-driven stories, which I like. And you feel like you get to know the crew of characters quite well as you go along. The second book actually had a character from the first book in it. But he was not one of the major-major characters.
It annoyed me at first that 9/11 appeared in the book. I am not sure why. Maybe because we are coming up on the five year anniversary, and it is not something I like to think about a lot of the time. It makes me wonder if people were annoyed in the mid to late forties when Pearl Harbor figured in the plot of a work of fiction.
A lot of the book was set in NYC, so 9/11 affected most of the main characters in a variety of ways. None of the main characters were in the Twin Towers or were firemen/policemen, etc, but some characters’ whereabouts were unknown to friends and family for a period of time. It was interesting to read the takes/impressions/feelings/experiences of people in the city who were not directly affected by the two planes flying into the World Trade Center. I thought that gave a different angle/twist to the whole scenario, and one I haven’t heard/read much about before.
It made me remember watching the whole series of events transpire on TV and the subsequent feelings of shock and fear and disbelief that I experienced. I was all the way up in Alaska at the time. Even up there, people were frightened. Because they stopped all air traffic and closed down the gates to the Army base where we lived and there was a general feeling of fear and uneasiness and a belief that the terrorists could strike… anywhere. So, to have actually been in New York at the time. Wow.
By the end of the book, I felt like I had gotten to know most of the characters quite well. Some I got to know better than others, and sometimes I got to know characters I didn’t think I would get to know that well better than the ones I first thought I would. Some of the characters I really didn’t care so much for. And some of them grew irritating and I switched allegiances or sympathy. The book ended up all too warm and happy and cozy for my tastes. And too unrealistic. Kind of like a Lifetime channel movie. Life just isn’t that tidy.
Which brings us back to… messy.
I am not sure why I felt compelled to read for five and a half hours. I think because I could. And in normal life, I can’t. I NEVER have five and a half hours to do anything I want to do. I had also gotten to the point where I was driven to finish the book. I didn’t have to get up early the next morning or go to work, as it was to be Labor Day. So, I could afford to stay up until 2 am reading.
I got in bed at 8:30 pm. I kid you not. That in itself is unheard of. I told myself I was going to read for at least an hour. Maybe even two. A special treat. Woohoo!
Living on the wild side.
My kids were busy doing their own things, so they weren’t demanding anything of me or my time. Although both did come in and out of my room several times to use the computer, ask me questions, tell me something, give me a hug, ask for something else, use the phone, tell me about a video game, look up something else on the computer, crawl in bed next to me and ask for another hug, and tell me they were going to bed.
I absorbed, or embraced, the interruptions as they weren’t really interruptions. Not like I had to get out of bed and go pick someone up from somewhere at some particular time. Which is what I normally have to do. Several times over.
It was just a long stretch of… READING.
And I didn’t even fall asleep!
That in itself is a miracle.
Normally, I like to read before bed. These days that means I will crawl into bed, open up my book with good intentions, and then fall asleep in five to ten minutes. Because it is so late, and I am so freaking exhausted. Hence, the reason why I was only on page 150 after about four weeks of reading the same book. And couldn’t quite remember all that I had “read” or even who all the characters were.
It was a total luxury to be able to read a book for hours on end. And be able to follow the thread of the story and get to know the characters. And come to like some and dislike others and change allegiances several times over.
It was nice to know that for once I wouldn’t have to get up early. I wouldn’t even have to set an alarm! For once, I wouldn’t have to get my kids off to school or some sport or activity and me off to work. Nobody in the house had to get up early. And there was nothing in particular I – or any of us -- HAD to do the next day. I wasn’t worried about how I was going to fit everything in or make sure I got someone to this place at this time and someone else to this other place at this other time and then pick them all up again at a whole variety of times, some of which might – or probably would -- overlap. And which frequently made me wish, quite earnestly, that I was Elizabeth Montgomery in Bewitched and all I had to do was wiggle my nose and I could be wherever I needed or wanted to be at any given time.
So, I am thankful for Labor Day and for a day off. Period. Last year I had to work on Labor Day. My kids were off school, of course, and I felt guilty all day long at work. When I got home, I hurried to make a picnic and fit in some traditional Labor Day/end of summer celebrations. Like… making s’mores.
This year: we all got to sleep in, and then we went on a long bike ride, threw the football around, raked some early leaves, and had a cook-out and picnic. End of summer rituals.
Day off from school.
Day off from work.
It was heavenly.
Labor Day.
posted by delta at 9:22 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home