Sunday, April 29, 2012

Yesterday


Yesterday, I went by my grandma's and picked out some of her books to read. Yelling from the upstairs to the down stairs, I asked her what she thought I should read. I asked her about a particular author and asked if the books were creepy. She wouldn't answer. I had to rephrase my question. "Did Joyce Carol Oates write twisted stories about death and murder and trials and that kind of stuff?" Grandma answered me by explaining some people enjoyed reading those types of books. She always has a subtle way of explaining things. 

"I know Grandma, but I couldn't read those kinds of books before. I'm really not going to be able to take them now." I yell still sorting through books. I've always had trouble reading sinister stories. Like, Poe, everyone likes Poe only I would rather read his poetry. It's difficult for me to finish even the shortest stories about death and dying. I'd rather read happy rather than sinister.


Grandma recommended some other mystery writer while I was busy checking out her collection of Mary Higgins Clark without picking up anything. The books in the far corner are all covered in dust. The stacks and stacks of books separated by author. Authors I have never heard of and authors I couldn't not know about. Some might consider grandma's book collection to be small. To me, it's always seemed like a little library. 

I ended up with a Jane Austen book suggested by Grandma as she laughed a little. She laughs because she knows how little I actually read. I picked up Bronte, Shakespeare, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, one translation of Madame Bovary (A book I started and never read before), and a book written by Kate O'Brien that I read more than ten years ago.


The only one I've even picked up is the Sonnets written by Browning. I know I'm not expanding on anything sitting here typing about books and not actually reading them. So, here's to less typing and more reading. Although, I do have to say reading Elizabeth Barrett Browning means more to me now than it did when I was a teenager.


*** Also note this story is another story with no word play. It's straight forward with no hidden meanings. 


*** Updated Sunday at 3:15. I thought I'd explain a few more things. One of those is to never use the word creepy when meaning sinister and suspenseful

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