I think re-immersing myself into the world of fiction has left me with lofty aspirations and optimism about life, and I find that I have to keep reminding myself of the stark difference that reality offers. Not that there's anything wrong with reality (well ok, there are a few things here and there :p), but just that life in a storybook borders on perfect and ideal; there's the ideal marriage, the perfect guy, the best job, the fancy house and car, and the adorable kids (i'm skipping the brutal murders and serial killers :p). I'm at the last couple of chapters of the Prodigal Daughter, and its had the same effect on me that Kane and Abel had: I've gotten attached to the characters and entered their realm of life.
I think its sort of an escape, into the life of someone else that you would like to experience for a while before you get back to your seemingly mundane one. Suspense/thrillers, mysteries, crime fiction and classics have the same effect- books like Along came a Spider, A time to kill, Post Mortem, The second time around, etc. had me rooted to the spot, wondering what I would've done if it was me in the book, and guessing wildly how the story would end.
There's just something about books that movies just don't quite match up to. I think the reading experience as a whole has something to do with it.
If only life were a little closer to that in the storybooks... *sigh* I'm pretty sure we'd still find something to complain about though ;)
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