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Not about a book, really
Jul. 1st, 2009 09:00 amI just finished Pat Murphy's Wild Girls.
Reading books with that kind of plot is always odd for me - I was one of those bright kids, did go to summer camps for writing and things like that, and so am reading the book comparing it the whole time to my experience.
This one was very well written because it did get me to stop doing that and stay immersed in the story's point of view.
The ending broke the fourth wall a bit too hard for me because the first person wrap-up butted up against the narrative form and that's not really my thing, but otherwise very engrossing. And the story bits were all believably good and intertwined.
Afterwards I was thinking of fights my parents used to have (which is why this isn't about a book, really) and thinking: one of the great sad truths about life is that the muscles of our hearts and the muscles of our heads don't develop in tandem.
Being a bright kid doesn't change the fact that you're a kid. The muscles of your head may have developed, but the muscles of your heart are still all raw and tender and growing. Of course now I want to talk about it as if it's bones (can't keep a metaphor straight) - how when you're in a growth spurt weightlifting can do funny things to your bones and joints if you over do it - not breaks exactly (on the macro level, anyway - probably breaks on the micro level), but deformations or compactions?
Your heart is soft when it is growing and can get compacted, distorted.
Then, times when you get older, maybe your heart is doing its thing and your brain goes through a growth spurt, new thoughts put pressure on the heart, new blood flow not quite what it's used to. Damage to all those aortas and stuff from the flow of ideas, thoughts, pushing your feelings into new shapes.
The two do work together, heart and head. But it's an uneasy thing, an unsettled thing.
Reading books with that kind of plot is always odd for me - I was one of those bright kids, did go to summer camps for writing and things like that, and so am reading the book comparing it the whole time to my experience.
This one was very well written because it did get me to stop doing that and stay immersed in the story's point of view.
The ending broke the fourth wall a bit too hard for me because the first person wrap-up butted up against the narrative form and that's not really my thing, but otherwise very engrossing. And the story bits were all believably good and intertwined.
Afterwards I was thinking of fights my parents used to have (which is why this isn't about a book, really) and thinking: one of the great sad truths about life is that the muscles of our hearts and the muscles of our heads don't develop in tandem.
Being a bright kid doesn't change the fact that you're a kid. The muscles of your head may have developed, but the muscles of your heart are still all raw and tender and growing. Of course now I want to talk about it as if it's bones (can't keep a metaphor straight) - how when you're in a growth spurt weightlifting can do funny things to your bones and joints if you over do it - not breaks exactly (on the macro level, anyway - probably breaks on the micro level), but deformations or compactions?
Your heart is soft when it is growing and can get compacted, distorted.
Then, times when you get older, maybe your heart is doing its thing and your brain goes through a growth spurt, new thoughts put pressure on the heart, new blood flow not quite what it's used to. Damage to all those aortas and stuff from the flow of ideas, thoughts, pushing your feelings into new shapes.
The two do work together, heart and head. But it's an uneasy thing, an unsettled thing.
