Welcome to PolinaLand… Before you make fun of the name of my blog, I’d like to mention that simply “Polina” was taken, as was “popopolina,” “popopopolina,” and many other exciting options. At least PolinaLand kind of rolls off the tongue, right? RIGHT?
Due to my ADD and general inability to focus on any single subject for fear of discovering, yet again, that I am just not good enough, I will introduce completely random topics each week.
I was initially going to write about the many embarrassing aspects of growing up in an immigrant family and circulate it with the five other immigrants I know, so we could collectively make fun of ourselves and our families. Then, two things happened. First, I came to my senses and realized it would hurt my family’s feelings… and that is the last thing I want to do. Second, my Indian friend sent me a link to stuffindianslike.com, and I quickly concluded that my take on the issue would never measure up in wit or in volume!
So instead, I want to share my thoughts on an essay by Rachel Donadio, published in New York Times on March 30, 2008. You can find It’s Not You, It’s Your Books online at http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/30/books/review/Donadio-t.html?em&ex=1207800000&en=5dc64df025008fd9&ei=5087%0A
I am by far not as well read as I would like to be. However, it certainly never prevented me from judging others on their literary choices. Hypocritical? Definitely! But, at least I am honest. When I was younger, the books someone read (or didn’t read) served as a simple, if not always accurate, indicator of intelligence. (I know intelligence is really not the right word, but bear with me) I no longer use this criterion extensively for a few reasons: A) I don’t make many new friends B) I had a chance to grow up just a little.
I don’t have “top 5” must read books; though major literary gaps can be alarming. Still, there are many books that will put the reader in my “please don’t talk to me” category. When my high school Russian for Russian-speakers teacher drew a parallel between Pushkin and Danielle Steele (after all, love is such a universal subject…), the world became a little sadder. I looked around the class for other grieving faces to see if I could make friends.
I am not sure how I feel about the idea of book clubs. Discussing books on a schedule is definitely practical and harmless, but something just doesn’t seem quite right about it. If anyone has thoughts on/experience in book clubs, please share.
But I digress… So, how many points do you think my husband earned when he gave me the first edition of The Little Prince as his first gift? A million! It seems that he would find most of the books I read boring or at best, depressing. Yet, he doesn’t reach for a Stephen King novel and instead opts for some essays on math or physics, which don’t interest me in the least. But not only can he see the elephant in the boa, he knows that the sheep is in the box! And that matters…
3 comments:
Dear Polina,
Congratulations on your blog opening! I wish for your new land (PolinaLand) to get inhabited by
many friendly bloggers in search of inspiration and communication. As far as your nostalgic 'sheep in
the box' post is concerned, I too, some time ago, was distraught by and conscious of associations with
the non-readers. Not so much for fear for my own reputation, but rather, for fear of being unable to
associate (by virtue of ssociating with the opposite group) with the 'readers' that I believed
were to be my friends in the future.
For purposes of amusement and reiteration, I want to recall an incident associated with the theme of your article. In High School, I was annoyed by the non-readers, and in college, by the not-well read. However, the most vivid memories are from my High School classroom, so I will recall one of those. The incident will assume a name of 'CliffsNotes Irony'. Everyone knows, in practice or in theory, how to use CliffsNotes, those genius literary help giants. I myself had to resort to one of them when studying Shakespeare. Well, in one of my Shakespeare sessions, one poor girl misinterpreted some act in
Othello, and one supposedly well-read guy called her STUPID in front of everyone. While I was tempted to make fun of the situation and offer this girl some
Cliffnotes for Dummies, the event was very sad in that it involved an unfair irony. The accuser, I
later found out, was actually quite well-versed in CliffsNotes. His CliffsNotes knowledge ranged from Shakespeare to Fitzgerald – impressive, isn’t it? Well, this is my mini ironic recollection...
Well I can definitely relate, as I've found myself judging people on their literary acumen more than a couple of times. Nowadays, I just try to stay away from the subject completely, and I appreciate if others try to as well (unless, of course, it's my girlfriend Opera!!!).
Congratz on the blog Pol. And, don't forget to watch for 'em baobabs.
Those who can - write, those who can't - read. Так что, я лучше приведу пару забавных цитат.
"Ел я в парке бутерброд не спеша,
Вижу, барышня идет, - хороша!
Книга Джойса в руке -
атрибут утонченной натуры.
С чуть брезгливою губой, - мол, тоска,
Взгляд скучающий такой, свысока,
Ох, давно не видал я
такой сексапильной фигуры!" /Т.Шаов/
"Литературные пристрастия Сталина были разнообразны: Мопассан, Уайльд, Гоголь, Гёте, Золя… Как свидетельствуют исторические записи, он любил цитировать псалмы из Библии, отрывки из трудов Бисмарка, произведений Чехова. Восхищался Достоевским, считал его замечательным психологом..." /Е. Коэмец, но мог быть кто угодно другой./
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