Moments of Transition, Moments of Revelation
I'm working on reading Sheri Tepper's novel Gibbon's Decline and Fall for the book discussion on Thursday. It started off very slow, but after 150 pages or so it's gotten a lot more interesting. There's still something about the characterization that irks me, but I'll see how it works out. I'm about 2/3ds done.
I almost never stop reading a novel once I've started. I figure that the ending is (or should be) such a major part of any novel that it might end up redeeming itself if I stick with it. So if I don't finish it, then I won't know if it was really any good. Of course, sometimes the book is not so good; I struggled through Brian Aldiss' Helliconia Spring, which I simply could not stand, and this past summer I dragged myself to the end of John Brunner's Stand on Zanzibar. And I can't offhand think of a book that I thought started slow and ended up being brilliant. But I figure, just because I haven't encountered one means there aren't any?
Although I'd be surprised if I had a hard time getting through the first part of a book and ended up putting it on my favorite books list.
I think I do pretty well on this score, and I have some objective evidence to back it up (though that's more detail than I feel comfortable going into here). I know I can be rather standoffish, though, and I think I'm becoming more so as I get older. But I think I make a fair effort to understand what's going on with my partner (when I have one), and I've generally tried to be forthright when I don't understand what's going on with myself. I'm not very argumentative, and certainly I'm not a violent person.
This sort of understanding sometimes instills strange feelings in me. As best I can put it, it's something like realizing that there are women out there who are in bad or horrific relationships who might have an interest in me (if they knew me), or vice-versa (if I knew them), and that I might "treat them better" or "be better for them". But there's also the realization that just because I might treat someone better doesn't mean that things would work out between us. I think some part of me just finds it incongruous that how people treat each other can wreck a relationship, but it can't make a relationship. Even though that's perfectly logical.
I also suspect this is partly the result of a conflict between my ego and my brain. I'm proud of the fact that I'm basically a nice person, but I also realize that that's not enough, and that I don't really know what 'enough' is, and I worry that I ain't got it, whatever it is.
My ego has taken quite a beating over the last couple of years, poor old thing.
So now my apartment smells like smoke, and it's kinda chilly to leave the windows open. I guess the first step is to vacuum the carpet (can you tell I'm a little slow about such things?), but in the meantime I'm trying to cover the smell with scented candles.
Well, at least the cats don't seem to care. Heck, they've been delighted that I've spent the last couple of evenings reading rather than sitting at the computer.
I wonder if I'll eventually see what this one means?