I’ve noticed that when I start a good book, more often than not, my first impression is that it’s just a cool concept expressed in a neat arrangement of words. That’s all. I expect to remain distant from the characters and mainly just enjoy the plot, and maybe also the writing style. I think this is because I can’t expect anything about the characters, and I can’t guess what sort of people they might be, whereas I know the general plot from the summary and the writing style from an excerpt.
I’m pretty much always surprised.
When I finish a good book, my impression is very different. The book becomes a messy, tangled web of emotion instead of a thoughtfully organized set of words. At first the book gave off an impression of being professional, which generally equals distant–but at the end, it’s much more personal. I can’t view it from a distance because I’m so caught up in that tangled web, and so when I finish good books, it’s hard to adjust to real life. Even if I forget the plot, I don’t forget the emotion. Good books, in a way, seem so human.
Because it’s like when you meet someone, you understand the smallest bit about them–maybe you just know they’re nice, or have certain habits. Then you get to know them better, and there are suddenly layers upon layers of personality. You discover that the little bit you knew about them hardly told you anything, because they’re so much more than someone with many little habits or a kind and distant stranger.
So yeah. Is it like that for anyone else?
MAGICAL WORD OF THE DAY/WEEK/MONTH/WHATEVER:
Oporopolist, which means fruit-seller. It’s so much fun to say. Oporopolist. Oporoporoporoporoporoporo . . .