January 5
just read  My dad’s been telling me to read this book for awhile. One of the backside cover reviews calls it a Horatio Alger meets … someone I haven’t heard of … story. The Horatio Alger part is definitely there, but it’s not one of those inspirational stories that makes you feel bad about yourself for sitting on your ass while unfathomably poor and oppressed teenage boys in post-Cultural Revolution China overcome unbelievable odds to get into college as English majors (oh, and Columbia Law School, nbd). I kind of hate self-righteous books that are all about the pity or the guilt. This book took a different tack, probably because the author is a different person and believably humble despite the crazy accomplishments.  Now I’m moving on to East of Eden by John Steinbeck, one of my favorite authors (it’s basically him and J.K. Rowling). I’ve only read the first few pages so far but wow, I’m already starting to feel it. I love reading everything … except for romance novels and everything non-Harry Potter in the fantasy genre … but certain authors can definitely evoke different feelings with their writing. Some books are good because they tell good stories or they have good characters or good twists. Other books are good because every few paragraphs you have to stop and sigh inwardly because what you just read was literally beautiful, viscerally beautiful. When I read Steinbeck I feel like I just took that first sip of a steaming cup of hot tea. Or maybe like a quick transition to an inversion pose during yoga. It’s a heady yet calming feeling. A warm ache. After reading only journal articles and textbook chapters for the past 4 months—which I’ve actually also enjoyed quite a bit—it just feels good to read something good. 

just read 

My dad’s been telling me to read this book for awhile. One of the backside cover reviews calls it a Horatio Alger meets … someone I haven’t heard of … story. The Horatio Alger part is definitely there, but it’s not one of those inspirational stories that makes you feel bad about yourself for sitting on your ass while unfathomably poor and oppressed teenage boys in post-Cultural Revolution China overcome unbelievable odds to get into college as English majors (oh, and Columbia Law School, nbd). I kind of hate self-righteous books that are all about the pity or the guilt. This book took a different tack, probably because the author is a different person and believably humble despite the crazy accomplishments. 

Now I’m moving on to East of Eden by John Steinbeck, one of my favorite authors (it’s basically him and J.K. Rowling). I’ve only read the first few pages so far but wow, I’m already starting to feel it. I love reading everything … except for romance novels and everything non-Harry Potter in the fantasy genre … but certain authors can definitely evoke different feelings with their writing. Some books are good because they tell good stories or they have good characters or good twists. Other books are good because every few paragraphs you have to stop and sigh inwardly because what you just read was literally beautiful, viscerally beautiful. When I read Steinbeck I feel like I just took that first sip of a steaming cup of hot tea. Or maybe like a quick transition to an inversion pose during yoga. It’s a heady yet calming feeling. A warm ache. After reading only journal articles and textbook chapters for the past 4 months—which I’ve actually also enjoyed quite a bit—it just feels good to read something good.