The world is in lockdown; real life sucks. So I am taking a break from it — one book at a time. Welcome to my quarantine-reads series, y’all!
AHi, sorry but you’ve been kinda scammed. The original post was supposed to be on The Reader by Bernhard Schlink wherein, I wittily discuss topics like the holocaust, ethics in post-world war two Germany, fetishizing older women, and the importance of reading difficult books with effortless charm and humor. Yeah, that program has been delayed. (But there are some excellent book & movie recommendations, so stick around?)
What happened, Sneha? I hear no one ask.
Let me tell you. Over a week ago, I published my third article go read a book, Jean-Pierre and I got great reviews! People who read it texted complimenting me, Medium curators picked it up and distributed in their network. I got pretty sweet views overnight. So what’s the problem? Well, I got too much in my own head.
This blog started as a fun, experimental medium of expression to handle the perpetual undercurrent of anxiety and stress amidst the ongoing situation. It was an outlet for me to share ideas and topics that popped in my head. It was supposed to be a collection of my inner-monologues that I might revisit in 2030 and thing, “huh, 2020 was a weird year, and haha, I am cringing at my writing”. It also serves as a brilliant (deceptive?) mode of procrastination. Making me feel like I achieved something for the day, despite not ticking things off my to-do list. But then came the numbers. I found a little stats button and boy was it a rabbit-hole. Writing new drafts got replaced with checking how many people viewed the old story, which tag is performing better, how do I optimize SEO? Which very quickly transformed into — “is anyone even actually reading,” “there are so many better writers,” and the classic “I’m not even that good.” Yeah, I had a blast overthinking this.
Checking stats was a nice little boost of instant gratification — a little pat on my back for doing something. During this time, on some days, just getting up, brushing my teeth, taking a shower, and eating feels like a victory. These numbers gave an excellent (false) sense of accomplishment. I started this because I didn’t continue wanting to be a passive consumer. I wanted to have moments of introspection, exercise my creative muscles. Just the act of sitting in a corner, listening to Kodaline on repeat, and typing one word after the other was calming, almost meditative. I also got sweet sweet dopamine hit every time I completed a piece. So I write this to remind myself of the simpler joys of life. To show the monkey brain who the boss is by not letting it ruin a good thing because it’s not great. To priority practice over perfection. So for the time being, I’ll be ghosting my inner-critic.
Ifyou’re still with me. Hi, again, thanks for sticking around. How are you doing? How’s your mental health? Are you drinking enough water? Here’s my hot take on The Reader — both the film and the movie. A rare case of “movie was way better than the book,” The Reader is a fictional tale trying to be many things. A love story between a teenager and a grown woman, a deliberation on post-Holocaust Germany, and the stigma around illiteracy. In efforts to cultivate philosophical discussions, it tries to ask readers if there is any redemption for those who followed the order of the Schutzstaffel. As someone who enjoys historical fiction, I was excited to read this one only to be disappointed on all accounts. “Storytelling is an act of revolution,” I read somewhere. Literature helps develop empathy and cultivate community-centric behavior. I believe it is indispensable to read literature that talks about difficult topics, violent histories, and sensitive issues. In The Case for Teaching Depressing Books, Sahar Mustafah says:
Extraordinarily written books containing trauma necessarily demand young people to see a world beyond their own scope of experiences, to examine their privilege.
Hope and positivity, while very necessary, just by themselves, can be dangerous and dismissive of our society’s realities. People of all ages need to read difficult works to recognize and combat bigotry, study conflict, and tension in a community.
The Reader seems to fail on all those fronts. It feels like a quick profiting of a problematic topic, much like what love-story of dying kids is to YA fiction. At least the movie was saved by Kate Winslet’s phenomenal acting, which earned her an Academy. Unlike the book, the tone of the film evolved with the age of the narrator — making it more matured. My all-time favourite cinematographer, Roger Deakins (1917, Blade Runner, The Shawshank Redemption, Fargo), really shines through. I won’t say this often but skip the book, watch the movie. In case you choose to read the book, you can check out the complete review on my Goodreads page.
This one’s from the movie. A survivor says the following lines to our protagonist, Michael. I think this also somehow applies to our current productivity during quarantine chasing society. All those saying “if you don’t come out with a new skill, you’re lazy,” please shut up. People aren’t “working from home,” they are “at home during a crisis, trying to work.”
“People ask all the time what I learnt in the camp but the camps weren’t therapy, what do you think these places were — universities? We didn’t go there to learn. One becomes very clear about these things. My advice, go to the theatre if you want catharsis, please go to the literature. Don’t go to the camps. Nothing comes out of the camps, nothing.”
This is just for some kids to use as an Instagram caption. Nothing else.
“Sometimes the memory of happiness cannot stay true because it ended unhappily..” “Now to escape involves not just running away, but arriving somewhere.”
check this out instead
In place of the usual more by the author, I am sharing some other exciting things you should watch, read, or listen to.
Movies
Books 1. All the lights we cannot see — Anthony Doerr 2. The Book Thief — Markus Zusak 3. Tattooist of Auschwitz — Heather Morris 4. Diary of a Young Girl — Anne Frank 5. Code Name Verity — Elizabeth E. Wein