Over the last few days, I've re-read Evelyn Waugh's brilliantly witty work, 'Vile Bodies' - in some ways, it is hard to believe that he is also responsible for penning, 'Brideshead Revisited' (almost as hard as believing that yes, 'Evelyn' is apparently also a name for a guy. Who married, what are the chances?, a woman called Evelyn). A particularly idiotic student the other day engaged me in a discussion about the merits of books, her on the side of 'books being boring, pointless and ultimately redundant'. Well, those last two words have been added by me to elevate her miniature intellectual capacity. Books can be wonderful creations, and it is a sin that examining bodies generally choose some of the most tedious specimens from centuries past to represent Literature to tele-addict teens worldwide. Not that I'm advocating books being written with today's particularly ghastly younger generation in mind: we see quite enough of their brand of awfulness without them needing the further encouragement of reading about their antics. (Which is where, by the by, Jacqueline Wilson has gotten it wrong: she recently complained that children grow up too fast and it is a crime, and yet as she openly acknowledges the young characters in her book have navel piercings, talk back to their parents, and generally flount all rules of respectable society).
I just feel genuinely sorry for people who don't have the capability of enjoying a damn good book. Books provide an admirable escape from worries and concerns, introducing you to a world of other characters who can make you laugh and cry along with them; I feel sorry for anyone who hasn't spent a night reading through a particularly nail-biting Agatha Christie, unable to turn off the light until Poirot has rounded up the suspects and finally pointed out to the befuddled community, and of course reader, just Who Dunnit. And I feel sorry for anyone who is so stupid as to make the comment that everything in books is 'common sense' - oh, and who said in the same sweeping statement that Nietzsche was clearly an 'idiot'. Curses, if only she'd popped along a few decades ago she'd have saved some academics a lot of reading and thinking.
Books can make you question yourself, reassess a long-held view, understand others. They will almost inevitably improve your vocabulary and ability to communicate effectively with eloquence and expression. They can also allow you to not make a fool of yourself, for example by teaching you that 'wherefore' does not - for God's sake - mean 'where', but rather 'why'. Juliet's calling of, 'Oh Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?' was not Shakespeare's idea of pantomime, with the audience expected to shout and point, 'over there! yes! just below your left foot, you dimwit!' It is not enough merely to vaguely acknowledge the plot of a work of literature: if you could understand the language, it adds a whole new dimension. Really. And could stop you using a word incorrectly and thus minimalise your muppetous status in the world.
I've concluded over the years that I cannot possibly take a guy seriously - in relationship terms, especially - unless he's acquired a good grounding in literary essentials, and indeed intends always adding to that good grounding. This was brought home to me in a supermarket once, when the total came to £19.84. 'Oh', I said, 'look at that', and had a little chuckle. The confused guy looked around desperately for inspiration, and eventually smiled and said, 'ha! oh yes!' Walking away, I asked him what was notable about the price, and he said well, it was the year he was born. Yes, and the year you were born is clearly far more important than one of the books that rocked the last century. I should have turned on my heel there and then. The writing is always there on the wall, it is just whether or not you choose to read it...
While I'm on the subject of what is and isn't acceptable for men who have any intention of being in something approximating a relationship with me, I've had another few thoughts on that recently. Any guy who uses a bath/wash bag to carry their bathroom paraphenelia around the world will never be welcomed into my life, indeed a guy who spends longer preparing himself for an evening out than I do is off the cards. (I take three minutes, for the record). I don't want a guy who refuses to argue with me, indeed who backs away from confrontation. I've no intention of screaming myself hoarse for the rest of my life, but I do like to be challenged occasionally. If their music collection incorporates Celine Dion, Madonna, Chris de Burgh or Marvin Gaye, then they can forget about it. Anyone who refers to a holiday they spent ten years ago with their parents as 'travelling'; anyone who thinks I'll be entertained in the slightest by anything remotely related to toilet humour; anyone who keeps anything that an ex gave them and expects me to be 'fine' with that; anyone who states that they hate dogs and never want one, and who comes up with the ridiculous claim that they want to 'be married with children' (when not referring to a specific person with whom to carry out these activities) - they're all Out.
And, men of the world, while you're brushing up on your Shakespeare, can I suggest you also throw out your pink shirts? Honestly, they don't show you are 'comfortable with your sexuality'. You look like an idiot. Really. Unless you want a blonde limpet who smiles at you adoringly, I suggest removing them from your wardrobe post haste.
“There are easier things in life than trying to find a nice guy... like nailing jelly to a tree for example”.
4 comments:
It may be quaint but it is largely true. I've little intention of spending life with a guy who hasn't had the sense to pass a good portion of his life buried in a good book, and who hasn't the capability for enjoying a damn good read. My literary 'snobbiness' coming through, as you call it: no, fantasy and sci-fi and modern thrillers by the likes of Dan Brown don't cut it.
My travelling snobbery... Okay, either we have different definitions of the term, or you have to stop using it against me. Because frankly, it annoys the hell out of me. I think it is fairly accurate to say that when ten years old, you can hardly be described as 'involved with travelling' after your parents organise a three week tour of Australia for you - for example. Travelling, in my definition, involves making the odd decision here and there for a start, and I can't quite see ten year olds being capable of doing that...
So there. Go level your insults at somebody else, but not me. I'm not in the mood.
i support the anti-pink shirt statement wholeheartedly. pink is not a colour, it's a state. don't wear it.
and i also would much rather be with someone who knows his way around top gear, the simpsons, pynchon and poetry, than someone who can only contribute to the first part of that conversation.
oh, last but not least, if your a guy who doesn't get sarcasm, your brain is too small. sorry.
Amen to that (especially the part about this generation's severe lack of interest in books). I think it has to do with the fact that reading a book actually requires using your brain, which seems to be frowned upon nowadays. Anyone who showcases his/her intelligence is immediately labeled as elitist, snobbish or intellectual which I consider a great compliment), because ignorance and stupidity have become socially acceptable (epitomized by "celebrities" like Paris Hilton). It seems people are actually proud of their ignorance.
I for one have many pleasant memories of reading one book after another during summer holidays. I remember that during my teenage years, I used to go to the biggest bookstore in the country right before the start of the holidays, where I would buy between 20 and 30 books at once. There were times where I would actually read from 9 to 12 am and from 1 to 5 pm nonstop! Ahh, those were the good ol'days, lol. Unfortunately I don't have that much time on my hands anymore, although I still have the habit of stocking up on books when I have time off from work. In fact I just got a couple of books today in order to survive my 18 hour flight to Texas next week (The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova based on Mina's recommendation and God is not Great by Christopher Hitchens among others). For me, there are very few things as rewarding as reading a good book. It's just a great form of escapism!
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