Rambling about books…

This is probably the most journal-like post I’ll ever publicly post… so err..

spoiler warning?

I recently started going back and reading books that I had read when I was in primary school… I’m not really sure why – maybe trying to recapture some of that innocence, or hoping that I would gain some kind of insight. I’m probably just bored on the hour-long subway commute. Either way – Its got me thinking…and has generated at least one realization – that while, perhaps, obvious – is important enough for me to write about

A few months ago, I started re-reading the Homecoming Saga – and Orson Scott Card book about a group of people on a colonized planet after the destruction of Earth, sent back to Earth by the planet’s god-like computer. As I read through the series – my reading pace swaying between boredom and fanboy-like jubilation – I realized that my enjoyment of Card’s work has little to do with the story; (though sci-fi has always been my niche of choice) Instead – it is the profound realizations and insight that his characters have about both their own lives, and the story they were taking a part in that draws me in. I have often dreamed that I could have even half the insight that his characters show in their weakest moments.

After Homecoming I began again on Ender’s Game. This was my introduction to Card – first viewed at school when I was young enough to be content with the escape that it provided. The plot spoke to me – genius kid sent to military space camp and becomes a hero! Of course! I loved it – and I still do. But this time, I focused on the characters – the way the world was shaped around them, and bent by their actions – the connections between characters became important – and creating my own understanding of the cast’s relationships sparked my creativity. It was a different experience – enough so that I desired to read more…

So I started Ender’s Shadow. There isn’t really much I gained from the experience – the book is an exceptional story – but it seemed distant – and almost emotionally and insightfuly simplistic compared to Ender’s Game. Bean – the character defined by his genius yet Dexter-like inability to contemplate emotion – it struck me as unreal (the very point, I think). And while I loved the story, I wanted back into a world where inner-monologue became pages upon pages of exposition. So I grabbed Speaker for the Dead

I have a chapter left in Speaker – one that I know belongs in Xenocide far more than this book – but I have already been overcome with a great sense of realization. I originally couldn’t wrap my head around Speaker – the tale was certainly compelling, and the characters were amazing – but the book itself left me…

naive…

The first time I read Speaker – I never knew what it meant to make the sacrifices that the characters made. Never understood what it meant to value a community – an ideal – higher than myself. I was never in a position to be part of much that was larger than myself – it was a glorious safety blanket. But now, I understand – even empathize with the thoughts and emotions Card’s characters expressed… its enlightening and humbling.

Perhaps all great books have this ability – to reinvigorate a childlike desire to understand the world – please your friends and family – and vanquish your demons – and the rereading marks a lightning-strike of understanding. Or maybe they’re just great books, with a great plot, and great characters. I don’t know. But I cant wait to start Xenocide… to see what memories and insights it dredges up.

Hell..it even make me want to write again

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