If you’ve been following my blogs at all, you already know that I enjoy reading. As previously reported, I mostly stick to a variety of fiction. In the last couple of years, however, I’ve slowly started to realise that non-fiction also holds an interesting array of possibilities.
Every year or two in the summertime, I take a couple of weeks away from life and venture to my sister’s oasis in British Columbia. I find holidaying at her place to be something of an escape from reality. An escape from my reality, at any rate. She leads a very different lifestyle than I do, which makes it just what a holiday should be: an escape from your own normality and a glimpse at a different world. I guess there wouldn’t be much point going on holidays, if everywhere you went was exactly like home, now would there?
As frequently happens on these holidays (aside from drinking far too much wine, spending too much money, and gaining at least five pounds), I tend to run out of things to read. You would think I would be more prepared and take two or three books with me, rather than one I’m half done, but I don’t. Perhaps it’s my sub-conscious at work. If I run out of something to read while I’m there, she always produces something different and interesting and something I inevitably enjoy.
A couple of years ago she handed me a book called “The Hot Zone: A Terrifying True Story” by Richard Preston and said, “Read it”. I dutifully did and was quickly drawn into a non-fiction account of an Ebola virus outbreak in the United States. Not a light, fluffy holiday read, perhaps, but it drew me in and mesmerized me. Mark and his cousin, of a similar age, were both curious as to what this book was about, so I briefly explained what the Ebola virus was and how it manifested itself in its victims. “What’s it called?” one of them questioned. “Bleed-hola?” I corrected him and said it was “Ebola”. We all had a good laugh and unanimously agreed “Bleed-hola” was a very good name for it, given what happens to you if you’re unfortunate enough to become infected with this nasty virus.
Finishing my foray into this unlikely book, I told her I was surprised I’d enjoyed it, as I’d sort of thought didn’t like non-fiction. The escape into fiction is such a pleasurable experience, with virtually no limits or rules, that I couldn’t see how real life could measure up. I asked her if she had any other good, non-fiction to recommend and her eyes lit up. “I know JUST the book.”
She sent me home with a hardcover book depicting a rocky outcropping of stones in the waters off the coast of California, the water appearing to have a bit of a red-tinge to it. The book was called “The Devil’s Teeth: A True Story of Obsession and Survival” by Susan Casey. The first thing I have to say is that for some reason, for the entire first half of the book, I thought it was a story being told by a man. Obviously I didn’t read the author’s name before beginning this book, since “Susan” is hardly one of those cross-gender names. I must say it changed my perception of what I was reading and I was actually tempted to start the book again, with a woman in mind. That, however, is an aside, and really doesn’t have anything at all to do with the book.
This is a book about small, rocky island grouping, known as the Farallone Islands, off the coast of San Francisco, the scientists who spend time on the island ostensibly studying birds, and the great white sharks that frequent the area who caught their attention and admiration. Again, quite an unlikely subject, but the author draws you into her experiences and into the strange history of these Farallone Islands. A bit partial towards sharks in the first place, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that I was cheering for the survival of these amazing creatures and waiting for my next glimpse of “the Sisters”. The drama and history the author ties together in this book is beyond compare.
I brought the book home with me to finish and promptly forced it on my mother saying, “Read this.” Since then, it’s made its rounds and everyone who reads it thoroughly enjoys it, even if they’re a bit unsure about the subject matter.
As is typical of me, I sort of “forgot” for a while that I actually like non-fiction. There are so many great fiction books out there for me to discover, as well as all my favourites I want to re-read, that I am easily distracted and haven’t given non-fiction a chance lately.
I will often read about books in the newspaper or on-line, or someone will recommend a book to me. When one catches my attention, for whatever reason, I log-on to my handy-dandy local library website, and put in a request for it. Then, of course, I forget all about it until my friend, the library computer calls to let me know he’s done my bidding and has it waiting for me. It feels a bit like Christmas when I trot on over to the library, because I never remember what the book is about or why I wanted to read it. Sometimes I’m a bit surprised that I reserved a book in the first place, wondering if I had clicked on the wrong one or something. I tend to go on “topic jags” and sometimes move on quite quickly from them, forgetting I was at all interested in the first place.
Yesterday, I picked up a non-fiction book by an author named Judith Levine. It’s an account of her and her partner spending an entire year not spending. “Not Buying It: My Year Without Shopping” describes her reasoning behind this little self-experiment and the trials and challenges she faced throughout her year of anti-consumerism. This is a topic I’ve revisited more than once over the last six months or so. I’ll see articles or stumble across blogs about people who just simply stop spending for a year (or more), sticking with the needs and foregoing the wants.
“Need” versus “want” is an interesting topic unto itself, of course, and every time I read about this type of simple living, I ponder this topic. I think it’d be an interesting challenge to just simply stop the extra, unnecessary spending for a set amount of time. A year seems a bit extreme, but anything less may not be as challenging or as telling. My family doesn’t share my interest in attempting this type of challenge, however, and, truth be told, I’m not sure I could pull it off anyway. I don’t need more clothes, or books, or meals out. Vacations, alcohol, movie rentals…those are all wants. Then there’s the grey area. I think I would struggle, as Levine does in her book, as to whether “nice” toilet paper is a need or a want. Is Heinz ketchup, as opposed to “no name” a want or a need? Does it count if it’s food? What about birthday gifts and Christmas gifts and dog toys? Hair products? Hair cuts, for that matter?
I think this topic deserves more thought before I even begin to contemplate the sanity of actually attempting it. In the meantime, I’ll stick to voyeuristically experiencing it through the other people’s experiences and try to determine if I could make it through a year without.
Borrowing books from the library instead of ordering from Amazon is a step in the right direction, though, right?
Every year or two in the summertime, I take a couple of weeks away from life and venture to my sister’s oasis in British Columbia. I find holidaying at her place to be something of an escape from reality. An escape from my reality, at any rate. She leads a very different lifestyle than I do, which makes it just what a holiday should be: an escape from your own normality and a glimpse at a different world. I guess there wouldn’t be much point going on holidays, if everywhere you went was exactly like home, now would there?
As frequently happens on these holidays (aside from drinking far too much wine, spending too much money, and gaining at least five pounds), I tend to run out of things to read. You would think I would be more prepared and take two or three books with me, rather than one I’m half done, but I don’t. Perhaps it’s my sub-conscious at work. If I run out of something to read while I’m there, she always produces something different and interesting and something I inevitably enjoy.
A couple of years ago she handed me a book called “The Hot Zone: A Terrifying True Story” by Richard Preston and said, “Read it”. I dutifully did and was quickly drawn into a non-fiction account of an Ebola virus outbreak in the United States. Not a light, fluffy holiday read, perhaps, but it drew me in and mesmerized me. Mark and his cousin, of a similar age, were both curious as to what this book was about, so I briefly explained what the Ebola virus was and how it manifested itself in its victims. “What’s it called?” one of them questioned. “Bleed-hola?” I corrected him and said it was “Ebola”. We all had a good laugh and unanimously agreed “Bleed-hola” was a very good name for it, given what happens to you if you’re unfortunate enough to become infected with this nasty virus.
Finishing my foray into this unlikely book, I told her I was surprised I’d enjoyed it, as I’d sort of thought didn’t like non-fiction. The escape into fiction is such a pleasurable experience, with virtually no limits or rules, that I couldn’t see how real life could measure up. I asked her if she had any other good, non-fiction to recommend and her eyes lit up. “I know JUST the book.”
She sent me home with a hardcover book depicting a rocky outcropping of stones in the waters off the coast of California, the water appearing to have a bit of a red-tinge to it. The book was called “The Devil’s Teeth: A True Story of Obsession and Survival” by Susan Casey. The first thing I have to say is that for some reason, for the entire first half of the book, I thought it was a story being told by a man. Obviously I didn’t read the author’s name before beginning this book, since “Susan” is hardly one of those cross-gender names. I must say it changed my perception of what I was reading and I was actually tempted to start the book again, with a woman in mind. That, however, is an aside, and really doesn’t have anything at all to do with the book.
This is a book about small, rocky island grouping, known as the Farallone Islands, off the coast of San Francisco, the scientists who spend time on the island ostensibly studying birds, and the great white sharks that frequent the area who caught their attention and admiration. Again, quite an unlikely subject, but the author draws you into her experiences and into the strange history of these Farallone Islands. A bit partial towards sharks in the first place, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that I was cheering for the survival of these amazing creatures and waiting for my next glimpse of “the Sisters”. The drama and history the author ties together in this book is beyond compare.
I brought the book home with me to finish and promptly forced it on my mother saying, “Read this.” Since then, it’s made its rounds and everyone who reads it thoroughly enjoys it, even if they’re a bit unsure about the subject matter.
As is typical of me, I sort of “forgot” for a while that I actually like non-fiction. There are so many great fiction books out there for me to discover, as well as all my favourites I want to re-read, that I am easily distracted and haven’t given non-fiction a chance lately.
I will often read about books in the newspaper or on-line, or someone will recommend a book to me. When one catches my attention, for whatever reason, I log-on to my handy-dandy local library website, and put in a request for it. Then, of course, I forget all about it until my friend, the library computer calls to let me know he’s done my bidding and has it waiting for me. It feels a bit like Christmas when I trot on over to the library, because I never remember what the book is about or why I wanted to read it. Sometimes I’m a bit surprised that I reserved a book in the first place, wondering if I had clicked on the wrong one or something. I tend to go on “topic jags” and sometimes move on quite quickly from them, forgetting I was at all interested in the first place.
Yesterday, I picked up a non-fiction book by an author named Judith Levine. It’s an account of her and her partner spending an entire year not spending. “Not Buying It: My Year Without Shopping” describes her reasoning behind this little self-experiment and the trials and challenges she faced throughout her year of anti-consumerism. This is a topic I’ve revisited more than once over the last six months or so. I’ll see articles or stumble across blogs about people who just simply stop spending for a year (or more), sticking with the needs and foregoing the wants.
“Need” versus “want” is an interesting topic unto itself, of course, and every time I read about this type of simple living, I ponder this topic. I think it’d be an interesting challenge to just simply stop the extra, unnecessary spending for a set amount of time. A year seems a bit extreme, but anything less may not be as challenging or as telling. My family doesn’t share my interest in attempting this type of challenge, however, and, truth be told, I’m not sure I could pull it off anyway. I don’t need more clothes, or books, or meals out. Vacations, alcohol, movie rentals…those are all wants. Then there’s the grey area. I think I would struggle, as Levine does in her book, as to whether “nice” toilet paper is a need or a want. Is Heinz ketchup, as opposed to “no name” a want or a need? Does it count if it’s food? What about birthday gifts and Christmas gifts and dog toys? Hair products? Hair cuts, for that matter?
I think this topic deserves more thought before I even begin to contemplate the sanity of actually attempting it. In the meantime, I’ll stick to voyeuristically experiencing it through the other people’s experiences and try to determine if I could make it through a year without.
Borrowing books from the library instead of ordering from Amazon is a step in the right direction, though, right?
1 comment:
I love how you make me think :)
Post a Comment