Story is Dreaming With Eyes Open

Have you ever awoken dream-tossed; rattled by the visceral content of your mind left to roam wide and free in the night?

Mornings like that used to frighten me until I realized human beings ought to be startled by how far out the fences of freedom are set. They are a long way out, so far in fact, it takes more than a lifetime to reach them. Understanding that settled some things for me; cut some fetters from my wrists. Waking dream-tossed, amazed or horrified by the stark presentation of my deepest humanity, is, I now see, the entire purpose of story.

When I wake from a naked encounter with my dreams, I have actually woken from a hidden part of my own story: The bits I can't manage to focus on while awake will mosaic together the missing pieces of me as I dream. When I wake, I have lived through chaos and upheaval without leaving the comfort and safety of my bed.

Then, books.

Story stands us up in the eye of alteration and disruption without overturning our waking lives but managing, mentally and emotionally at least, rearrange the furniture.

Life after encountering great story (be it one we read or one we write) cannot remain identical to what it had been before. The shock of story stains us bright colours, throws open the window and transforms us into prisms that toss stories onto the walls almost against our will.

The more books, the more colours.

Repeated, intentional encounters with story have the accumulative effect of growing us as people, but not to the end we might have thought. I once believed story could help me find completeness, fullness as a human being.

Now I wonder if there is such a thing as completeness, capacity of fullness, an end point to be reached while there is still dirt beneath our feet, a story trail to follow, and another night of dreaming ahead.

A Pilgrim Book Lover's Confession

I have a confession to make-- one that might pass without much comment in much of the world, but will be akin to heresy here in this forum. 

I'm getting rid of many of my print books. Actually, I have been weeding them out for years. First I sold or gave away most of my collection of books about ancient Egypt. And I had a lot of them. The only ones I wanted to keep were the ones from my childhood and the art books.  Next were the paperback novels I don't think I will have time to read. I don't mean I won't have time this year or next. I mean I won't have time ever. And that applies to many other "dispensable" books on my shelves. Category by category, book by book, they are leaving my house.

When I was younger the very presence of books were my riches. I spent all my babysitting money, indeed all my money until my senior year of high school (when everything had to go toward college costs) on books, usually paperback and used. 

I hauled them with me when I became temporarily homeless, then to college. When I got married we bought bookshelves and went without a television for a while. I had my priorities.

Every house I've lived in was arranged around books. And now I am parting with them. At this point I probably have fewer than half of my books. Unless there is a reason for a print book, I am buying electronic ones. And of course the free ones, I've acquired some of them too. 

If my Kindle could bulge, it would. I don't know what its capacity is, but even its shelves are stocked with the temporary: I'm already mentally preparing to delete those whose allure has dulled. 

Though I am unaware of any health issues, I believe the truth of the outward wasting away that Paul spoke of--even as I am surely being renewed day by day, fitting myself for a great coming journey.

Something about the unsubstantial and weightless nature of electronic books is a sobering reminder. Not only am I passing away, the apostle John said that this world itself--not just its physicalities but its thoughts and its books-- is passing away too. 

Only what is eternal will last. I want ideas that are true in my knapsack for my journey. I don't want to carry around or dust things I won't read. And as for everything else-- I'm traveling light, my friends. 

The Reading Rules--Guest Post by Ariel Allison Lawhon of She Reads

There’s a game I play with my children every time we sit down to read. I call it “The Reading Rules” because the four boisterous children I’ve been given need reminding of what is (and is not) civilized behavior while reading a story.

Consider this recent episode:

Me: “Boys, what are the reading rules?”

Boy #1 (ten-years-old): “No talking while you read.”

Boy #2 (eight-years-old): “No asking questions til’ you’re done.”

Boy #3 (six-years-old): “No hitting.”

Boy #4 (four-years-old): “I tooted.”

This, as you can imagine, sent the entire conversation down the toilet (pun intended). Spasms of giggles. One child plugged his nose and rand around the couch. Someone else flailed on the floor. But now they were inspired. And hyper.

Boy #1: “And no picking our nose.”

Boy #2: “And no eating our boogers.”

Boy #3: “Boogers taste yucky.”

Me: “Please don’t tell me how you know that.”

Boys 3 and 4 had, by this point, twisted off to the point where they were unmanageable and had to be sent to bed. It took an additional five minutes to corral the attention of the older two back to the task at hand: learning which of the four houses the Sorting Hat assigned Harry Potter. They are sensitive enough to plot even at this age that they rooted for Gryffindor. And of course, by the time we reached the end of the chapter, they were not disappointed.

What does this have to do with a literary blog you say? As a novelist, avid reader, co-director of a national book club, and a contributor to this fine establishment, I wanted to suggest that my children are not the only uncivilized readers out there. Many of us could use a few Reading Rules as well. Here a few that come to mind:

Rule #1: No Judging A Book Unless You’ve Read It

I will confess I’ve done this very thing. I’ve read reviews and heard my fellow writers/readers pan a book and formed an opinion on something I’ve not so much as held. This rule can be tricky considering my role at She Reads. I have the opportunity to read dozens of books every month. And the truth is that I often find myself in the position where I do not care to finish them. But if I’m being honest, that does not put me in a position to judge the entire book – only the portion I’ve read. I could name more than one novel that began better than it ended. Or vice versa. Recently I was so irritated by the first line of a novel that I snapped it shut and haven’t picked it up again. By doing so I disqualified myself from all intelligent conversation on that novel. So the rule that I apply to unread or unfinished books is to say, “I’ve not read the novel,” or “What I read didn’t interest me.” And I leave it at that. Anything less is unfair to the author and the book.

Rule #2: Think Before You Review

This rule could also be stated “think before you request.” With programs such as Amazon Vine and mass blog tours, readers are now in a position to acquire books they would normally never purchase. Not always a bad thing perhaps, but it’s easy to request a novel when there is no personal cost, only to toss it aside later or give it the dreaded one star rating because it fell outside the bounds of personal taste. I could give you a list of novels and authors and genres that I go out of my way to avoid. But to do so would be unfair. See Rule #1.

Rule #3: If You Don’t Like A Book Tell Us Why

There are few things less trustworthy than a book reader/reviewer who loves or hates every book. I’ve found some blog tour participants to be guilty of this and I would wager it has to do with workload. Much easier to slap up the book cover and a few sugar/acid coated thoughts about the novel. Yet honest critique is invaluable to an author. If we’re going to publically critique the work of another let’s be honest, intelligent, thoughtful. And fair. 

So what do you think? Do you disagree with any of these rules? Or feel others should be added to the list? For the advancement of civilized reading, please do share!