and I’ve been reading The History of Love
and this is how I feel
“Writers don’t make any money at all. We make about a dollar. It is terrible. But then again we don’t work either. We sit around in our underwear until noon then go downstairs and make coffee, fry some eggs, read the paper, read part of a book, smell the book, wonder if perhaps we ourselves should work on our book, smell the book again, throw the book across the room because we are quite jealous that any other person wrote a book, feel terribly guilty about throwing the schmuck’s book across the room because we secretly wonder if God in heaven noticed our evil jealousy, or worse, our laziness. We then lie across the couch facedown and mumble to God to forgive us because we are secretly afraid He is going to dry up all our words because we envied another man’s stupid words. And for this, as I said, we are paid a dollar. We are worth so much more.”
-Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality
I am supposed to write about the cars I’ve owned. Or maybe begin this short story I’ve been mulling over for a few days. But my toes are cold. And the words of The History of Love keep making me jealous. And my eyelids feel heavy.
Sic biscuitus disintegratum.
I really loved this book. My friend Garrett (who shares my major love for Thrice) had a quote from this book as his Facebook status one day and it IMMEDIATELY hooked my attention. I’ll just share that quote with you here:
“Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.”
Garrett was quick to point out that he only had half of the quote up, however, I immediately went on a search for this novel. Because, c’mon, who doesn’t respond to romance like that? I saw it at Inkwood one day, but being quite incapable of buying all of the books that I like I waited to get it from the library. And then I started reading one of the most beautiful books I’ve ever read (and at the same time quite a confusing novel).
I have a little bit of a pet peeve about this novel: there are three narrators. Two first person narrators that are quite vivid and then one third person omniscient narrator telling the story of another character or quoting passages from the novel The History of Love between the other narrators’ sections. The reason I was annoyed with this was not only does it create some confusion whilst reading… I am working, albeit intermittently, on a story about a couple teenage boys and a road trip and a professor of mine fussed at me for having this same sort of set up (with the three narrators). Oh well. That’s all I’ll say about that, because I’ll quickly start sounding “uppity”.
Continue reading “The History of Love”