a room with a view

"it all was a nothing, and a man was a nothing too"

I have had so much trouble reading this summer. I cant decide if it is because my body is still burnt out from school, or if it has something to do with my lack of health insurance and need for new glasses. at any rate, I have tried again and again to read the books that i have been waiting my entire college life to read, but have never had the time to read. i had big plans: read all of those books i have never been able to find the time for, like farewell to arms, catch22, the brothers karamazov, and many others. ive tried everything. i started some grimms fairytales, and couldnt get through more than one, i even tried to re-read some of my favorite jane austen books, and couldnt do it. when, in my life, have i not been able to read sense and sensability and enjoy it?

so what has happened is one of those strange instances in which i feel as though i have read more books than i actually have. i am a very well-read individial, having covered many of the philosophers, most of the victorian classics, as well as a great deal of the romantics, and even modern, post modern, and contemporaries. but now, after picking up one book, reading the first two pages, forgetting about it, and doing the same thing to a new book the following week, i now have the "did i already read this" syndrome.

there is something to be said about the first line, and subsequent first page of a story. it is the deciding factor, really, when choosing a book to read. if the first line does not grab the reader, the story will not be read (unless it is for school, and god knows how many bad first lines i have read just because it was in a book required by some horriffic professor for some painful class)

the first line is a "so what" of sorts, the reader gets the chance, right at the beginning, to demand of the writer: "why should i spend my time on this? is it even worth it?" and if the author does not provide a satisfactory answer, the reader has the choice to give up and use the book as a place holder on a dusty book shelf until it eventually makes it into the goodwill pile next month.

all of that is beside the point, though. my point right now is that, while i cannot remember ever reading A room with a view, I am having trouble believing myself. i recognize the opening scene. have i read it, or was it a one-page read that was abandoned for some valid reason? did i have to put it down to make time for required reading? did i just not feel up to it at the time? did i abhor it after those significant first lines?


or did i actually read it, and will i remember the whole plot half-way through and be frustrated, but still feel the need to finish it anyway?

and Jane Eyre, why can I never remember how it ends? i know i have read it multiple times, yet i do not remember the ending....i never do, not until i get to the last page, time and time again.

i need to start keeping notes. why did i stop writing in my novels?


oh, because i'm slightly obsessive compulsive when it comes to my books. thats right.

well, on this recent read, the first few lines were pleasing, and have left me with a bit of curiosity, so i am going to give the book another try. it better put out. or at least put me to sleep.